Help! I Need Somebody Drabbles
by IzzyDelta
Summary: A series of one/two shots continuing on from 'Help! I Need Somebody' as requested by popular demand. Prompts are very welcome so please prompt away. i don't own any of the characters i just place them in situations and make them react.
1. Anderson Snubbed

**Help, I Need Somebody Drabbles**

**Anderson Snubbed**

John and Sherlock walk into the Homicide department of Scotland Yard for the first time after rejuvenating themselves back to their adult-selves. As they walk through the doors all the police officers on the department floor turn to stare at them. Sherlock flashes them a quick smile and winds his way over to Donovan's desk. The only person who had ignored their entry. 'How was last night?'

'Last night?' Sally queries.

'Don't act stupid Sally, it doesn't suit you. How was last night?'

'What happened last night?'

'None of your business Anderson.' John says bitterly before softening his tone. 'Go on then Sally.'

'It was interesting.' She says carefully. Sherlock's eyes gleam.

'Go on.'

'Err, no.' Sherlock raises his eyebrows.

'Sherlock, leave it.' John says. Sherlock pouts.

'But Mycroft won't tell us.'

'And you wonder why.' John mutters. 'Come on we've got an appointment.' Sherlock scowls but leaves Sally alone to follow his brother. As soon as the two of them close the door of their father's office, Anderson makes his way over to Sally.

'Piss off Anderson.' She says not looking up from her work.

'Who's Mycroft?' Sally looks up at the man looming over her

'What?'

'Who's this Mycroft?' Sally glances over at the window of Greg's office. She sees the detective inspector and his elder son watching the two of them frowning.

'Anderson, it's none of your business who I see.'

'I thought you loved me.'

'I lusted for you. Big difference. I love him, always have.'

'Who is he?' A steel edge creeps into the forensic officer's eyes.

'A far better man than you will ever be.' A figure enters the department unnoticed by either of them and watches the two them argue.

'A far better man than I will ever be.' Anderson parrots. 'What does that actually mean?'

'It means I am a man who respects his partner.' Sally and Anderson's head snap round to look at Mycroft. 'Hello Sally.' Sally blushes slightly prompting Mycroft to smile slightly. 'Mr Anderson, I presume.'

'Who the hell are you?' Anderson snaps.

'I am Mycroft, in case you hadn't worked that out.'

'Mycroft who?' Mycroft smiles his slightly creepy smile.

'Mycroft.' a whine comes from the door of Greg's office

'What?'

'You're keeping secrets from me.'

'I wonder why.' Mycroft murmurs to himself.

'Myc.' Sally admonishes him before sidling up to him. 'Anderson, he is the British government, therefore a boss of us.' Anderson glowers at the two of them. Mycroft cautiously places an arm around her shoulders.

'Finally.' Sherlock breathes. 'Ow, John.'

'Who. Are. You?' Anderson demands. The two Holmes' share a conspiratorial look.

'Don't be mean you two.' Greg says from behind Sherlock.

'Sherlock is my younger brother. If I were you, I would be very careful about what you say next, Mr Anderson.' Mycroft inspects the end of his umbrella before locking gazes with Anderson. Anderson opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. Everyone looks at him with looks of varying degrees of amusement, disgust and disbelief.

'You're… his brother.' He finally manages to say.

'I have two brothers, Anderson.' Sherlock says rather snidely. 'Mycroft and John.' Anderson spins to stare at the three at the door of Greg's office.

'John? Doctor John? _Him_?'

'Yes. Me.' John says. 'Got a problem with that?' Anderson shakes his head dumbly. John folds his arms. 'A warning in advance. Don't ever insult my brother. I will not hold back.' He glances at his watch. 'I've got to be at the clinic. Will you be okay?'

'I'll be fine John.' Sherlock says watching Mycroft whisper something in Sally's ear.

'Allow me to give you a lift John.'

'Thanks Mycroft.' Sherlock's two half brother leave the department forcing Sally return to her desk. Greg indicates for her join Sherlock and he in his office, saving her from Anderson. She breathes a sigh of relief and follows the two men into the office closing the door behind her ignoring Anderson's attempts to get her attention again.

**_A/N:- Next time... Greg is kidnapped - reactions form Sally, John and Sherlock._**

**_Oh, and this one was requested by Frecks who wanted a little of the Mycroft/Sally pairing_**


	2. Kidnapped Inspector

**Kidnapped Inspector**

Sally walks into the homicide department and heads over to Greg's office. Noticing that the blinds are down she knocks and waits. No answer. She frowns and glances around the department floor at the oblivious officers. She knocks again harder in case Greg had spent the night in the office. 'Anyone see the DI?' She asks the room in general. The consensus is that no one has seen Greg. Sally takes out her phone and sends off a swift text. A reply is swift. Parker looks at her and watches as her face pales and she drops the phone. Parker dives and catches her as her knees buckle and falls to the floor. 'Sally?' Parker guides him

'Greg…H'

'What's wrong? What's happened?' Parker's calm voice cuts through Sally's panic. She mentally shakes herself and physically shakes her head.

'Call Sherlock and John.' Sally stands and surveys the department. She heads over to the incident board. 'Everyone, listen up. Detective Inspector Lestrade has been taken by persons unknown.'

'How do you know that?' Parker tosses the

'Parker, how is it on the Holmes front?'

'They're on their way.'

'We're here.' Sherlock strides into the room closely followed by John. 'What happened?' Sherlock demands as the doors swing shut behind John. Sally throws her phone over to Sherlock.

'The text from Mycroft.' Sherlock quickly finds the text and stares at it. He passes the mobile to John who reads Mycroft's text as the consulting detective slips in front of a computer and starts it up. John hands the phone back to Sally and leans over Sherlock's shoulder.

'Do you have to do that?' Sherlock asks as the log in screens appears

'Yes.' Sherlock types in Greg's username and what he thinks the password is, which is promptly rejected. Sherlock growls.

'He's changed it.' John rolls his eyes.

'Of course he has. You hack it regularly. Shove over.' John's eye sparkle as an idea comes to him.

'No, tell me.' Sherlock's eyes narrow at his half brother, who just sighs and shoves him out of the way and taps the correct keys on the keyboard. He tap the enter key and the computer logs into the police database. Sherlock quickly retakes control and scans the incoming and outgoing emails and instant messages to see if anything stands out. John points at a subject header of an email.

'What's that?' Sherlock clicks on the email and opens it. To the untrained eye it looks like a random series of numbers, letters and symbols. On the other hand for Sally, John and Sherlock it is obvious what it means.

'He knows who taken him.' Sherlock states scanning the screen.

'Print it off.' Sherlock ignores the command from Sally. John gently slaps his around the head.

'Do as you are told.' Sherlock growls deep in his throat but listens to his brother.

'Get a room.' Anderson snarls under his breath.

'Don't react, brother.' John warns Sherlock. 'Print it.' Sherlock reluctantly prints the document and Donovan seizes it from the printer and heads over to the locked door of Greg's office.

'It's locked.' Sherlock comments dryly and reaches for his lock picks.

'Sherlock, you're in a police station.' Sherlock raises his eyebrow at her. 'Freak.' Anderson smirks but there is no doubt about the fondness in Sally's tone as she utters the former insult and current nickname. He grins at her as he easily slips the tumblers of the lock. The three of them enter to work out the coded message closing the door behind them. On the department floor the officers attempt to go back to their work but they keep glancing at the closed office of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade as growls and shouts of frustration are heard by all.

_**A/N:- Next time… Greg's retrieval Part 1**_

_**Dedications won't happen for every drabble**_


	3. Greg's Extraction P1

**Greg's Extraction P1**

Sherlock slams open the door to Greg's office. Simultaneously, every police officer except Anderson puts down their paperwork and turns to look at him. the furious consulting detective strides across the room. 'Hey, Parker goes with you.'

'I'm going on my own.'

'Freak, either Parker goes with you.' Donovan smirks

'Or what?' Sherlock says carefully spinning on his heel to glare at her.

'Or Anderson does.' The man in question snaps his head up to glare at her.

'You wouldn't dare.' Sherlock growls. Sally looks back at him solidly. 'Why can't you come with me?'

'Because she's the best shot and she's coming with me.' John says from behind Sally. 'and I will need to teach some skills.'

'She knows how to shoot John.'

'Not the shots I'm going to need.'

'Fine. Parker come on.' Sherlock storms out of the department. Sally and John look at Parker.

'Sorry about that, Parker. He's just stressed.' Parker nods and follows Sherlock out of the department as John apologises.

'Parker, he's heading to Regents' Park.'

'Thanks.' She disappears through the doors. Sally and John exchange a glance.

'They'll be fine.' John says. 'Parker can cope with him.' Sally nods.

'Come on.' Sally strides to the door. John hustles back into Greg's office and gathers up at the paperwork they had created. John walks casually after Sally who had already left through the doors.

'What do we do?' John pauses as Tietjens and Smith go to block his path.

'Your instructions are in DI Lestrade's office.' John barges in between the two of them. 'This way Sally. We're not using police weapons.' John purposefully heads for the exit of Scotland Yard.

'Why?' Sally asks falling into step beside him.

Greg comes round tied to a chair. The ropes binding his arms to the chair dig into his skin. The smell of dried blood reaches his nostrils making him gag. Internally he snorts with laughter, a Detective Inspector working in the homicide department of Scotland yard repulsed at the smell of blood. Greg shifts his feet slightly and feels that his ankles have had the same treatment. A shape pain shoots up his left leg making him realise that his shin bone has been broken. He gasps in agony. 'He's awake.' An unfamiliar voice says to his left. He tries to look in that direction before fathoming that he had been blindfolded. 'DI Greg Lestrade.'

'Who's asking?' his voice taking on a gruff no nonsense tone.

'Tough guy.' A second voice mutters.

'I said who's asking?'

'The name's Copeland.' The first voice replies.

'Copeland. Copeland.' Greg mutters. 'Nope, sorry can't place the name. Sorry.' He adds with false meekness. A punch lands squarely in his lower abdomen. _Copeland, of course _he thinks_, Sherlock's first case_. Greg's head is wrenched back and he can feel the hand fisted in his hair and the kidnapper's face placed closed to his.

'You put my brother in prison nearly ten years ago.' _Aaron Copeland then, rather than Jamie._ 'Ricky Copeland.'

'Nope, still doesn't ring a bell.' Greg has a hint of cheekiness in his tone, only it earns him two more swift punches to his stomach. He vomits up bile and it splashes over the shoes of Aaron Copeland. The colourful language and foot stamping tells Greg the vomit went inside the footwear. The restrained detective inspector feels Aaron Copeland take a swing at his head and consciously tells his body to relax and absorb the blow. All the limited preparations he managed to prepare for himself didn't work against the onslaught of blows that Aaron delivered. When the youngest Copeland brother stops the onslaught Greg begins laughing. 'God help you now, boys.'

'Why?' Aaron asks after delivering another blow to his torso.

'Because my boys will be coming to get me.'

'You have no boys, apart from your fellow coppers. And they didn't even realise that you were taken.' Aaron's voice is believing before ending in laughter.

'I wasn't talking about them. I was talking about my sons.' Silence ensues around Greg.

_**A/N:- next time…. John bumps into Sebastian Wilkes from TBB**_

_**Guys I am running out of ideas so unless you want this set of drabbles to end early please give me some prompts – dedications will be given**_

_**The character of Aaron Copeland is in no way connected to the American composer of the same name - who happens to be one of my favourites**_**_  
_**


	4. John Vs Wilkes

**John vs. Wilkes**

John walks down the street after leaving Sherlock at Scotland Yard to alleviate his own boredom. Unwittingly he walks past the Shad Sanderson Bank where he and Sherlock had investigated their second case. Before, they knew that they were brothers. Annoyingly, Sebastian Wilkes, the pompous git who had hired them, walks out of the bank and bumps into John. 'Watch where you're walking.' Sebastian Wilkes snarls at John. John narrows his eyes but refuses to retaliate except by walking away. Wilkes grabs at John's shoulder. John looks down at the hand gripping his bad shoulder.

'That's my injured shoulder.' John's voice is quiet and icy. 'Please take your hand off it.'

'Or what?' John glares at the taller man and just raises his eyebrows. Sebastian loosens his grip and John easily sakes it off and walks away. However Wilkes doesn't want to walk away. He and his chums walk after him catcalling. John manages to ignore them for a while until Sebastian Wilkes insults Sherlock. 'You're the freak's only friend aren't you?' john stops in is tracks and turns to face Wilkes. The banker's buddies fall back slightly at the expression on John's face.

'If you are talking about Sherlock. Yes I am his friend, but not his only one. He has several. Oh and stop spreading rumours about him or you might have the government on your back.' Sebastian snorts.

'Yeah, right.' John nods up at the cameras pointing straight at them.

'I don't know if you noticed but Cameras often follow me.'

'Why are you so important?' Wilkes sneers.

'Apart from, my father is one of the important Inspectors in Scotland Yard, my step brother has a high ranking position in the British Government, and my brother is the world's only consulting detective. Why do you think I'm followed?' John turns away again. 'Oh and isn't your favourite restaurant the other way.' John turns away Wilkes grabs him again. this time by his good shoulder. 'Get off my shoulder.'

'Seb, leave him. You walked into him.'

'Listen to your friend, Sebastian. He actually gives good advice.' John dips his shoulder and slides it out of Wilkes' grip and walks away. Wilkes' friends and colleagues walk in the opposite direction.

'Aren't you coming Seb?' One of them ask.

'No, there's something I have to do.' Sebastian Wilkes strides off following John. The other bankers shake their heads and turn away.

John keeps walking aware that Sebastian is tailing him, albeit badly. The former army doctor turns down an alley almost inviting Sebastian to attack him. The banker in question speeds up to catch John before he gets halfway down the alley. Sebastian grabs the army doctor and forcefully turns him to make them face each other. John brings up his hands up and powerfully removes Sebastian's hands from his shoulders. The banker retaliates by swinging a fist into John's face, which the ARMY doctor easily blocks and lands his own squarely on Wilkes' nose not quite breaking the cartilage. 'Shit.' Wilkes swears loudly.

'Don't pick a fight with someone who has been to a warzone.' Sebastian glowers at him. John shrugs and turns away. 'really nice job trying to pick somewhere with no cameras but unfortunately you haven't done very well.' John nods towards the lone camera. Sebastian glances towards it before lunging at John again. the blonde medical soldier simply steps to the side making Sebastian's face and the tarmac get acquainted. John allows himself to smirk out of sight of the camera before walking off leaving the banker lying on the ground.

John sits in Greg's office with Sherlock and Sally opposite Greg when an uniformed officer knocks at the door. 'Come in.' Greg says slightly amused. The officer hesitates in the doorway. 'Come in.' Greg repeats. John ignores the officer while trying to suppress his smirk. The officer nervously clears his throat and enters the office closing the door behind him.

'Umm, there has been an assault charge filed against Doctor Watson.' Greg looks at the man in question.

'Just like you said he would.'

'He had to just to save face with his friends.'

'Did he manage to land a punch?' Sally asks. John gives her a look.

'Ex army doctor. Banker. What do you think?' John rises from his seat and sends a look to his father who nods. 'Coming Sherlock?'

'Why not?' Sherlock says rising. Greg stands as well.

'Lock, you are not going to be causing any trouble.' Sherlock sweeps out of the department with John on his heels. Greg sighs and beckons to the uniformed officer. The two of them follow Sherlock and John. 'Coming Sally?'

'Try and stop me. I want to see this Sebastian fellow.'

'How do you know his name?'

'John vaguely described him and Sherlock guessed immediately.'

'Are the twins in trouble?' Anderson sneers.

'Shut up Anderson.' Donovan says.

Down on the ground floor, Sherlock and John wait for the three police officers at the bottom of the stairs. Greg smirks at the expression of the officer's face. '

'John would never run.' Greg murmurs in his ear. He nods. Sherlock opens the door the main public entrance and immediately bursts out laughing. Through the crack between the door and the frame Greg and Sally can see a bruised face belonging to the Shad Sanderson banker Sebastian Wilkes. The pair of them struggle to keep their faces straight. Sally spies a certain individual behind the investment broker.

'Mycroft.' Sally edges past all four men and approaches her boyfriend. Mycroft's eyes sparkle as he takes in the injured face of the banker.

'Sebastian Wilkes, I presume.' The banker turns to face the government official.

'Yes.'

'John, come out here.' John makes Sherlock lead him out by poking him. 'Hello, brothers.'

'Mycroft.' Sherlock replies caustically.

'I think we should take this out of the public domain.' Greg intercedes before anything can be taken out of control.

'Agreed.' Greg leads everyone into a conference room. Mycroft glances around when he enters 'We'll need a television and DVD player.'

'Okay.' Greg says nodding to the uniformed officer. 'Mycroft I take it you've already seen Wilkes' statement.'

'Of course he has.' Sherlock speaks with a small smile. 'He can't keep his big nose out of our business.'

'I have, and I noticed some inconsistencies.'

'I told the truth.'

'Really?' Mycroft asks suspiciously. 'Just to let you know, Mr Wilkes, I have seen the entire incident on CCTV, including the punches you threw in the alleyway.'

'There is no mention of an alley in this statement.' Sally says. Wilkes' already pale face drains of all colour. 'John?'

'I've already told you.'

'Enlighten me.' John rolls his eyes.

'I walked past the Shad Sanderson bank, he walked into me and decided to place all the blame on me. he grabbed my injured soldier to make me face. I told him to let go and he did. I walked away to avoid a confrontation but he decided to follow. He thought it was a very good idea to insult Sherlock loudly making me stop. I kept my distance which he closed and he grabbed my other. I let him know that a certain somebody.' A significant look at Mycroft. 'Often has the cameras follow me, his friends and colleagues told him to leave me alone but he ignored them and decided to follow me again into the alley. I think he hoped there would be no CCTV. He made me face him for a third time with hands on both shoulders. The grip told me he would not let go so I made him by bringing my hands inside his arms and knocked them off. He retaliated by swinging a punch into my face I ducked and swung in self defence, making sure that I didn't break his nose. He glowered at me and lunged I think intending to knock me onto the floor. I side stepped and his face became acquainted with the tarmac and I walked away coming straight here.'

'The CCTV corroborates John's version.' Mycroft says.

'Conveniently.' Sebastian Wilkes mutters.

'Shall we watch it?' Mycroft asks with false sincerity.

'No. He's right.' Behind the banker, Sherlock smirks in success.

'Sebastian, try not to annoy my big brothers, they are rather protective.' John and Mycroft simultaneously clear their throats warningly.

'So who's your father?'

'For me and John? Classified I'm afraid.'

'Sherlock.' Greg warns. Sherlock looks at him with a completely innocent expression, John attempts to stop a smirk but fails epically.

_**A/N:- Next time…. Part 2 of Greg's Retrieval – had to build up the suspense somehow *runs and hides from the angry mob of readers***_


	5. Greg's Extraction P2

**Greg's Extraction P2**

John and Sally stand close to each other as John instructs her on the best way to hold, and fire, a laser guided sniper's rifle. Sally watches out of the corner of her eye as a couple of soldiers enter the range and watch her and John pepper target after target with bullets. 'Concentrate Sally. Let the laser do most of the work.' John glances in the direction of the soldiers. 'Oh dear, it's the gruesome twosome.' He mutters just loud enough for them to hear.

'Three Continents, as I live and breathe.'

'How many times, if you have to call me by that name it's TC.'

'At least one more time.' One of them says. John holds up the rifle.

'Reckon you can beat me yet?'

'Oh yeah.'

'You never could before.'

'I'm practising every day. You're not military anymore.'

'Cheeky. Set up.' The soldiers each seize a similar rifle and choose a target. 'Sally count us in.' Sally does so and three rifles flare up. Three targets becoming riddled with bullet holes. Once all the magazines are emptied the firing stops and the three soldiers flick the safety catches on. 'Bring the targets forward.' One of the soldiers flicks a switch and the targets slide forward. One glance tells everyone that John still has his skills with a gun.

'Not fair.'

'Natural talent boys.' John grins. 'Sally, meet Hulk and Rain-man. Or rather Lieutenant Harry Ulysses Liam Knight and Second Lieutenant Ryan Waters.'

'Lieutenant, recently promoted.'

'Congratulations.' John says. Sally echoes it.

'Thanks Captain Watson.' the men salute and turn to leave.

'Lieutenants, we might need some help.' John says carefully. Hulk and Rain-man spin back round trying, and failing, not to look too eager. 'We need a group of around ten men. That's six more.'

'To do what?'

'Hostage retrieval.'

Sherlock and Parker scout the perimeter of the building that Greg had told them he would be in a letter. 'Best way to get in?' Parker asks after watching Sherlock in his trance for not quite twenty minutes.

'Front door and back door simultaneously.'

'Overpower and overwhelm.' Sherlock nods. 'What's John doing?'

'Getting a few military men to help out and teaching Sally to cope with more powerful weapons than the yard gets.' Sherlock's phone beeps.

**- Everything in place, all ready to go. You? JW** Sherlock quickly replies

- **Waiting for you SH**

'Ready?' Sherlock asks Parker. She nods as various unmarked vehicles pull up near them.' John jumps out of the lead van,

'Parker, Donovan is around the other side. She needs you to help her organises the police side of the operation.' The officer nods and darts down a couple of alleys to join her best friend.

Greg sits on his chair still tied to it and in complete silence. Well, not complete silence as Greg can hear the footsteps and breathing patterns of the Copeland brothers and their minions. _Oh god, I'm getting like Sherlock. _Greg grimaces. 'What's so funny?' Aaron Copeland asks striking him around the head. Greg refuses to say. A muffled bang is heard by all. Greg frowns, not placing the sound at first. He smiles internally as he begins to place the sound. A rat-tat-tat sound of bullets striking hard surfaces. Another bang from the opposite direction rattles around the room.

'My sons are coming.' He says wincing as every single pain shoots through his body. 'You'd better start running.' Greg feels the muzzle of a gun pressed against his temple.

'If I not getting out. Then neither are you.'

'My elder son is a sniper, he'll be able to get you before you even think about pulling that trigger.'

'Want to bet on that?'

'You'd lose.' John voice reverberates around the hall. 'You're surrounded, out numbered, out gunned. Do you really fancy your chances? Oh and Sherlock, get your skinny arse in there.' The door bangs opens and Sherlock stands silhouetted in the middle of the frame.

'Take off his blindfold.' Sherlock demands. Aaron complies. Greg blinks as his eyes adjust to the bright light.

'Sherlock.' Greg breathes.

'You have ten seconds to lay down your weapons or we will storm this room.' The man with raven crazy curls announces.

'Ten… Nine…' John's voice intones over the loudspeakers 'Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Attack.' Sherlock steps to one side of the door allowing police and the army to enter and take control of the room. A short fire fight ensues permitting John, Sherlock and Sally to run up to Greg and untie him. Sally and Sherlock help him into a lying position. John swings his medical bag and conducts a swift examination of his father. John splints the broken leg and administers enough pain relief to knock him out. 'cover me, you two.' John looks up. 'Hulk, Rain-man, help them.' John picks the unconscious form of Greg into a fireman's lift to get him out of there.

Greg regains consciousness in a hospital bed. But first, he uses his other senses to work out where he is. He can feel the presence of four people in the room, a private one. He internally smiles, _Mycroft, typical_. 'He's awake.' Sherlock's voice penetrates the fog in his brain. 'I can tell he is.'

'Leave him be.' Mycroft says. _Thought so._

'Let him come round in his own time.' John adds. Greg opens his eyes slowly taking in everything.

'St Bart's?' he croaks the question. John is there immediately with a glass of water. Greg weakly smiles his thanks.

'Yeah, you're at Bart's.' John smiles warmly. 'In a private room thanks to Mycroft.'

'The Copelands?'

'Incarcerated with minor injuries. None of our lot were harmed seriously. They lost about ten men.' Greg nods at Sally's words.

'When can I leave?' The room chuckles.

'And there's Sherlock's father coming out of his shell.' John mutters eliciting a roomful of laughter.

_**A/N:- Next Time… A missed out chapter from the original story. Sherlock and Greg bond while Sherlock is aged 3 or 8. (Not telling) You lot are a set of very lucky peeps getting an update today... enjoy it while it lasts. :)**_


	6. Father and Son

**Father and Son**

Greg prepares himself for bed, keeping an ear out for any noise from the boys room. he's sure that the blonde toddler will be sleeping soundly knowing that he is in a safe place and back with people he knows. He's more worried about the mentality of the other toddler. It had taken while for him to settle enough to actually sleep. Greg keep hears a quiet noise from the toddler's room. He pads out of the master bedroom and into the smaller room. he peeks in to see the three year old John fast asleep clutching fistfuls of the counterpane and the bear that Sally had given to each toddler. The toddler form of Sherlock, on the other hand, is thrashing about. The duvet is half off the bed being trailing on the floor. in a matter of strides Greg is across the room and kneeling next to Sherlock's bed, stroking the damp curls away from the forehead. Sherlock manages to jerk himself awake, his eyes dart around the room trying to place where he is. 'Shock.' Greg says gently. 'Shock. It's Greg Lestrade.'

'Stwade?' Sherlock whimpers.

'Yeah. Bad dreams?' Sherlock whimpers again and nods. Greg lifts the duvet off the floor and folds it at the bottom of the bed before climbing in with him and pulling it to cover them both. Sherlock snuggles into Greg's arms before turning over and burrowing into Greg's chest. Seconds later, Greg can feel a patch of wetness spread over his chest. He gently guides Sherlock's face away from his chest to allow the boy to breathe easier. Greg wipes the tears away from the cheeks on the toddler's face keeping the boy tightly in his arms ignoring the fuzzy ache building up in his arms from the pressure of the toddler lying on his arm. 'Tell me what happened.' Greg says gently. Greg feels Sherlock's hair move across his arm as the boy shakes his head violently. 'Tell me Sherlock. Please. Don't bottle it up.'

'No.' Sherlock snivels.

'Please, Shock. It will help, I promise.' Greg feels Sherlock shake his head again. prompting Greg to stroke the curls. 'Was it about you?' A nod. 'And John?' another nod. 'Me?' a third nod. 'Mycroft?' A shake this time. 'Anyone else?' Another shake.

'You and Don were…'

'We were what Shock?'

'Dead.' Sherlock murmurs so quietly.

'You dreamt we were dead?' Greg asks quietly.

'C, c, can't s, s, s.' Sherlock struggles to say what he needs to.

'You couldn't save us?' Greg asks trying to understand. Sherlock nods against the chest. 'Hey turn over, press your back against my chest. Okay?' Sherlock nods and does as he is told. Greg points in the direction of John's bed. 'Do you see him?' Greg senses the toddler frown in confusion. 'Hang on.' Greg slips out from under the cover and seeks out a toddler-sized dressing gown. He sits the raven haired toddler up and slips his arms into the gown before picking him up and steps over to the side of John's bed. Greg gently moves the top of the covers revealing John's face. 'We got him back. He's safe with us.' Greg moves a couple of curls off Sherlock's forehead and kneels down to get Sherlock closer to his best friend. 'Stroke his hair.' Greg guides Sherlock's hand to stroke the dirty blonde hair of the other toddler. 'Feel how soft it is?' Sherlock nods and snuggles sleepily into Greg's embrace. 'Feeling better?' Sherlock nods and rubs his eyes with a small fist. Greg returns Sherlock to his bed and tucks him in. 'Do you want me to stay?' Sherlock nods sleepily and Greg strokes the curls to keep the toddler calm. Greg stays kneeling by Sherlock's bed until he is completely sure that the young boy is asleep with little to no chance of having another nightmare. Greg rises yawning and takes himself to bed. He pauses at the door and looks back. 'Night, night boys. Sweet dreams.' he mutters.

_**A/N:- Another one for Frecks who has requested some Kid!Sherlcok and Greg bonding time. Next time… Sherlock attends a police awards presentation**_


	7. Presentation Mishaps

**Presentation Mishaps**

'I'm not going.' Sherlock shouts from his bedroom. John rolls his eyes as he fixes his tie in place.

'Yes, you are.' Sherlock's opens his bedroom and sticks his head.

'No I'm not.'

'You promised our father you would go. Besides, I thought you wanted to see Mary.'

'I do.' Sherlock whinges as he ambles into the living room and slouches in his chair.

'So get dressed and come on.'

'I don't want to go to some boring event to support someone who might not even win.'

'The award Father is up for he had to be nominated for by other officers. He's guaranteed to win it.'

'Wonderful.' Sherlock throws his arms up in frustration. 'The minimal anticipation has completely disappeared.'

'Sherlock. Our father is expecting the both of us.'

'Would I be able to speak out deductions?' Sherlock stares up at the mirror locking gazes with his elder brother.

'I think Dad might let if they're quiet and the person isn't nearby.'

'What's Mary wearing?' John tosses Sherlock his phone.

'They sent you a picture.'

'They request that you choose either the purple or grey.'

'Who's got the red?'

'Dad.'

'The blue?' In the mirror John raises his tie. 'Oh.'

'Are you going to attend?' Sherlock shrugs. 'You've got twenty minutes before they get here?'

'Is Mycroft going?'

'Yes, with Sally. If you come then between the six of us we have a table to ourselves. Oh and Anderson is banned.' Sherlock perks up. 'Thought that might entice you to come.'

'I never said that.'

'I don't hear you denying it.' Sherlock sneers at John's reflection as he turns. 'Are you coming?' Sherlock pulls a different face and ambles over to his bedroom.

'I'll think about it.' John smirks as the landline begins to ring.

'Hey Dad.' John hears the door to Sherlock's bedroom opens, John activates the

'Is he coming?' Greg asks

'Yeah, I think so.'

'You think so?'

'I let slip about Anderson being banned and he was interested. He asked what Mary would be wearing and whether Mycroft would be attending at Sally's side.'

'He's listening isn't he?'

'Yep.' Hidden behind his door Sherlock pulls a face as he listens to the conversation.

Sherlock re-joins the table after the interval for another round of dreary (in Sherlock's words) awards. The concession for Sherlock is that the entire table is as bored as he is after Greg has received his commendation. 'The awards now are the civilian bravery.'

'John, you should be getting one.' Mycroft murmurs.

'Getting a bravery award?' Sherlock scoffs. 'He would get the lot.'

'Be quiet you two. It's starting.' Greg hisses. John rolls his eyes at the antics of both Scarlett Holmes' sons. 'Scarlett would be ashamed of you.'

'Scarlett wouldn't be surprised.' Mary quietly says making quietening Greg. Mycroft's phone chimes loudly in the silence as the everyone else waits for a name to be announced.

'Apologies.' Mycroft stands and swiftly leaves the room shooting an apologetic glance at Greg, Sally and the Chief Constable. Sherlock stares after him.

'Lucky git.' Sherlock leans on his fist and sighs heavily. Mycroft re-appears at the door and beckons to Sherlock. The younger Holmes slowly and carefully threads his way to join his maternal brother.

'Every chance he gets.' Greg mutters to John. 'Every chance to escape.'

'To be fair, he did only come to see you get the award.' John mutters. 'I managed to persuade him with Mary and to support you and he got to do a little light deducting on the side.'

'Which he's done.' Sally mutters.

'This really isn't his scene is it?' Greg concedes the point as John's mobile indicates at a message has arrived. 'They want you and me. Sorry ladies, nothing about you two.' Greg and John rise from the table and swiftly make their way over to Sherlock and Mycroft. The four of them mutter among themselves before Greg peels off to speak to the host and the chief constable. John follows him but heads towards Mary and Sally. The two women grin and rise. The party of six leave the hotel and breathe a sigh of relief.

_**A/N:- This is for Book girl fan, who wanted some sort of family time. Next time… Mycroft and Sally attempt to make a cake ATTEMPT!**_


	8. Dinner and Dessert

**Dinner and Dessert**

**I'm bored.**

**What do you want me to do about it? MH**

**What do you want to do about it?**

**Cheeky MH**

**:p**

**What are you doing? MH**

**Paperwork… not one of Sherlock's **

**My brothers are more interesting? MH**

**He cuts it down. Where u?**

**The office, packing up MH**

**Lucky you.**

**Bring yours to my place MH**

**?**

**Bring your paperwork around mine. We'll do our paperwork together. MH**

**You big romantic. **

**You have no idea. Car will be out front in twenty minutes MH**

Sally pockets her phone and rises to knock on the door to Greg's office. He tells her to enter and rises an eyebrow at the slightly dreamy expression on her face. 'Mycroft has been texting then?' She looks at him surprised. 'Come on Sally. You've got that same expression you had when Anderson used to text you over a crime scene. Only it's a little more prominent-'

'Mind if I take some of the paperwork home?' Sally interrupts before she blushes to much.

'No. Have fun.' Greg glances out of the window. 'The car's here.' Sally throws him a scowl and retreats to her desk to gather up her paperwork. Greg chuckles. 'Shall I expect Anthea to drop it off for you tomorrow then?'

'Sod off.' Sally shouts back. Greg's laughter rumbles around the department

Sally exits Scotland Yard and climbs into the car that Mycroft had ordered to pick her up. Mycroft climbs out ahead of her and offers his hand to assist Sally out. Sally whistles as she looks up at the impressive building. 'Impressive.'

'It serves a purpose.'

'Serves a purpose?' She playfully shoves Mycroft before hooking her hand through the crook of his arm. 'Come on Show me around.' Mycroft leads her into the building into his private lift to the top floor. 'Much bigger than my apartment.'

'Bigger budget and it's inherited.'

'Inherited?'

'Should have been Sherlock's but it was written into our uncle's will that Sherlock could only inherit if he was clean. He had only just relapsed. It came to me.' Mycroft smiles grimly, before cheering up and pulling her into the kitchen. 'I thought we could cook together. I'll do the starter main course and you can do dessert.'

'I can't bake for toffee.' Mycroft hugs her

'Which is good because I don't want toffee. Chocolate fudge cake sound good?' Sally bats his arms away.

'I can cook but can't bake.'

'All you have to do is follow the recipe.' Mycroft places a kiss on her neck. He fishes out his favourite recipe for her to follow. He turns and gathers all the ingredients for his part of the dinner before helping her to measure out the components for the cake.

Ten minutes later, Sally, accidently, drops a handful of flour onto Mycroft's new black work shoes. 'Oops.' Mycroft looks down at his flour covered shoe and looks back at her raising solitary eyebrow. Sally dips her hand into the flour and scoops up a handful holding it at the ready.

'Are you going to throw that at me?'

'I might. Do you want me to?'

'Is that a challenge?' Mycroft reaches over and takes a handful himself.

'It might be. The carrots are boiling.' Mycroft reaches over with his spare hand and turns them off. Sally grabs the chance to rub her handful of flour into the back of his suit. He retaliates by rubbing his into her hair. The two pull apart and Mycroft makes sure every switch on his oven and hob are off and grabs a spare bag of flour. Sally grabs the open one. They stand off each holding a bag of flour and each ready to hurl the contents at each other.

Twenty minutes later, the pair of them are in fits of laughter and absolutely covered in flour. A beeping from the clock on the oven indicates that dinner is ready. The two of them look at the clock then back at each other. Sally is still holding her bag of flour with a little still in it. Mycroft's bag on the other hand is torn and completely empty. Sally smirks at her partner. 'Looks like I win.'

'The whole point of the exercise was not to be the cleanest at the end of it all.' Someone knocks at the door. 'Answer the door for me.'

'You've got to be joking. It's your flat. I'm going to clean up.'

'I've got a reputation to maintain.'

'Answer the door.' Sally giggles as she walks away. Mycroft grabs the torn bag and throws it at Sally, who sticks her tongue out at him. The elder Holmes roll his eyes and head over to the intercom.

'Hello, Greg? Come on up. Door's open.' Mycroft wanders back into the kitchen ands begins to plate up his and Sally's dinner. Greg knocks on the door to the apartment. Mycroft opens the door still covered in flour revealing Greg with a couple of bags. He raises an eyebrow.

'Have fun?'

'Flour fight.'

'I can see that. Where's Sally?'

'Bathroom. Getting rid of the flour.'

'Good job I went over to her place to get her some fresh clothes.'

'I would have sent someone over.'

'Pull the other one Mycroft.' He yells through. 'Sally. Fresh clothes for you.'

'Thanks.' Sally yells back. Greg grins at Mycroft.

'Have fun.'

'Let her know I'm not expecting her in tomorrow.'

'Will do. Hang on Greg. I've fixed you a sandwich.' Mycroft disappears into the kitchen and reappears with a wrapped sandwich. He hands it over as Sally reappears in one of Mycroft's shirts. Greg nods at the bags before accepting the sandwich and leaving.

'Pass on the message Mycroft.' Greg sees himself out and Sally leans into Mycroft.

'What's the message?'

'We have all day to ourselves tomorrow.' Mycroft whispers in her ear.

_**A/N:- This is dedicated to StArBarD who decided Mycroft and Sally would have fun in the kitchen. With a hint of Fairyfinder who thought it would be fun for them to have a fight. Next time… A proper fight**_


	9. Trouble in Paradise

**Trouble in Paradise**

'That… man is the most irresponsible annoying _being_ that ever walked this earth.' Mycroft places a calming hand on her shoulder, effectively making her jump put her skin. 'Mycroft, don't do that.' Mycroft chuckles gently.

'Apologies, Sally. How are they?' Sally sighs heavily.

'Greg's out of surgery and will make a full recovery. John's still in surgery and should make a full recovery' she glances at the clock. 'He should be out in ten minutes or so.'

'And Sherlock?' Sally indicates down the corridor.

'See for yourself. I'm staying back.' Mycroft moves to walk down the corridor.

'Why?'

'Because if I enter that room I _will_ punch him. I'm just removing myself from the equation.' Sally sinks into a seat.

'Why?'

'Because it was because of him that Greg and John were shot. Just go and see him.' Mycroft looks at her, looks down the corridor before transferring back to his girlfriend.

'Mine?' sally looks at him in confusion

'Huh?'

'Shall we go to mine after I sort out Sherlock?'

'Yeah, okay. Just don't let me look at Sherlock for a while.' Mycroft offers her a small smile and she gives him a weak one back. Mycroft walks down the corridor and deals with his brother.

Sally collapses onto the sofa in Mycroft's flat. 'Thanks for taking me out of there. I would have throttled him otherwise.'

'Why?' Sally sits up and looks at Mycroft.

'You like saying "Why?" don't you?' she falls back onto the cushions

'Sally.'

'What?'

'Why would you throttle him?'

'Because he nearly got Greg and John killed.' Sally pulls herself up from the sofa and stands with a small distance between her and her partner. Apprehension creeps up on her and she swallows.

'But he didn't did he? It wasn't his fault that they pulled the triggers is it?'

'Well, no. But Sherlock taunted him enough to make them fire.'

'You should have got there earlier.'

'I should have got there earlier? What the hell do you mean? I had to work with a single word and a cryptic bloody text. It was a goddam miracle I managed to work it out when I did!'

'Maybe you should pay more attention to Sherlock's deductions.'

'Maybe I should... what in god's name are you talking about. I'm not a walking encyclopaedia unlike you and your freakish brother.' Sally yells at Mycroft. 'I can't remember everything that has ever happen. I am working three cases at once here. Give me a break.' Sally pauses drawing breath

'Get out.' Mycroft's voice has a steel-edge to it.

'What?' Sally asks gobsmacked.

'Get out of my flat.'

'Why?'

'Get out.' Mycroft turns abruptly and walks into his study. 'I will go into the kitchen in five minutes and I don't want to see you here.' He says over his shoulder just before slamming the door. Sally mentally scrolls through her last words and cringes.

'Shit.' She walks to the study door and raises her hand to knock. She lowers her hand and turns knowing that she needs to give him a little space before she does anything else. But before she finally exits through the front door she writes a little note on the telephone pad

_Mycroft, I'm sorry. Please call me when you are ready. Sally._

_**A/N:- This is for FairyFriender, who suggested that Mycroft and Sally had a fight. Next time… the reason for the fight.  
Also, please visit my profile page to take part in the poll... but beware there be spoilers!**_


	10. Of Cases and Gunfights

**Of Cases and Gunfights**

Greg and Sally laugh gently as they climb the seventeen steps to the Baker Street flat as they take a potential case to Sherlock and John. 'You shouldn't be laughing Sally.'

'Neither should you.' She retorts but sobers up. 'First proper case back.'

'Huh?' Sally knocks at the door and rolls her eyes.

'Door's open.' John voice calls out.

'First case with these two as your sons.'

'Are you coming in or not?' Sherlock's voice intones. Sally opens the door smiling. She leads Greg through. 'Dad.'

'Hi dad.'

'Got a decent case?' Greg shakes his head fondly.

'Should be at least an eight.' Sherlock holds his hand out with out moving from his microscope having previously moved it to the table sitting between the windows looking down at Baker Street. 'Come and get it.' Greg drops it onto the table between the armchairs. Sherlock scowls up at his father, who just smiles back. John rises and picks up the folder. Sherlock looks hopeful but John retakes his seat making his younger brother scowl at him.

'It's a nine Sherlock.' John says spinning the folder towards Sherlock, it lands on the table narrowly missing the microscope. Sherlock throws a scowl at his brother but reaches for the folder.

'It's a nine.' Sherlock rises and before anyone realises he is out of the door and down the stairs. 'Are you coming or not?' He yells up the stairs. The three remaining people in the room exchange glances but follow the consulting detective out of the door.

Hours later, Greg, Sherlock and John stand opposite a line of gang members. The police officer and former soldier have their guns pointed at the men armed with an assortment of sticks, knives and chains. Sherlock stands out in front of his brother and father talking nineteen to the dozen. 'Sherlock get to the point.' John interrupts. Sherlock's mouth shuts with a snap and he glares at the shorter man.

'Fast forward twenty steps and you…' Sherlock points to a man just to one side of the middle in the line opposite 'murdered Alan Renfrew.' John runs his practised eye down the man, noting that not only is he armed with the visible knife and truncheon, but that he has a hidden gun just off the hip. Conveniently for the murderer, not visible to either Greg or Sherlock. John glances down the line and spots three others each sporting a hidden gun on their hip or in the small of their back.

'Sherlock. Stop talking.'

'Shut up John. You killed Renfrew because you thought he was taking more than his share, probably because he deserved it. Him doing more than the lot of you put together.' John subtly adjusts him aim to the chest of the murderer.

'Sherlock, for the love of god, shut up.' John yells. Sherlock finally stops talking and turns to look at his elder family members.

'Why?' He demands. Sherlock's movement allows the four men with guns to unsheathe them and aim them at the trio. Sirens are heard in the background as John tackles Sherlock to the ground and Greg opens fire. John fires from his position on the ground and takes down two of four gun men in front of him before the murderer successfully places a bullet almost exactly where the Taliban bullet had gone. John yells in agony and collapses on the floor. Sally bursts in with a team of armed officers as Greg falls and lands heavily on the floor. The police take down all the armed criminals and successfully succeeds in arresting the murderer with out any more casualties. Sherlock has sustained a very minor bullet wound to his upper arm but he ignores it preferring to keep pressure on John's new wound. He glances over to see Sally tending to Greg. 'What happened to him?'

'Bullet to the leg. Doesn't look too serious.' Sherlock sighs with relief before concentrating on John again. A paramedic races in and looks between John and Greg.

'Here. Unconscious with severe bullet wound to left shoulder.' The paramedic manages to stabilise John for the trip to hospital. Another two paramedics rush in one heads towards Sally and Greg and the other attempts to tend to Sherlock's arm wound. 'I'm fine.'

'No you are not sir, let us treat you.'

'I'm staying with my brother.'

'Shut up Sherlock.' Greg grits out. 'Let them treat you. Stay with John.' Sherlock acquiesces joining John in his ambulance. Sally stays with Greg.

_**A/N:- This is for Jess Stark-Lover of Downey Jr, who wanted a case for Sherlock. Next time… Jim 'accidentally' bumps into Mary. And please please please vote in the poll on my profile page I seriously need help for that **_**_Drabble. My lovely readers, you have a chance to take control of the characters destiny._**


	11. Mary and Jim

**Mary and Jim**

Jim sits in front of his computer and watches the screen very intently. Sebastian walks in and openly stares at the consulting criminal. 'You called Boss?' Jim ignores him or rather he is too focussed on the screen that he doesn't actually hear the sniper. The sniper in question sighs heavily. 'Boss?' he says louder. Jim flaps a hand at him not moving his eyes from the screen. Sebastian grits his teeth and strides round to take a look at the screen. 'Seriously boss? You're obsessed.' Jim slowly rotates his head to look up at the tall sniper and fixes him with a glare. The rifleman doesn't flinch. 'Why do you watch her so much?'

'I watch her because I can.' Jim snarls. Sebastian puts his hands up in mock defence.

'Okay. She's not bad looking, I'll give you that.' Sebastian looks closer that the screen. 'Isn't that the bird who came into that hospital room?'

'What of it?'

'Just wondered.' The assassin pauses. 'What happened while I was gone?'

'Was there something you wanted Moran?'

'You're the one who called me in here boss.' Jim frowns for a moment before he remembers. He sends a single glance over to a side table where a folder lies. Sebastian ambles over to the table and flicks through the paperwork. 'Consider it done boss. Should take me a week maybe two.'

'Get on with it.' He looks closer at the screen. Sebastian looks between his boss and the screen. Suddenly, Jim turns the monitors off and all but runs out of the room. Moran looks after him with an amused expression. 'Shut up.'

'Didn't say anything boss.' The sniper mutters under his breath.

Mary sits on a park bench and soaks up the quietness in the middle of the bustling city. 'Coffee? Black two sugars.' She jumps at the voice. She turns to see Jim standing there. 'You didn't look back when you left the hospital.'

'I did. You didn't notice.' Jim concedes the point and offers the coffee again. This time Mary accepts it. 'How have you been Jim?' Jim sits down next to her.

'Good?'

'Been thinking up any evil plans?'

'Weeeeell…' Mary bursts out laughing

'You don't actually have to say. Just send the odd one Sherlock's way to keep entertained and allow John to keep his sanity intact.'

'Why would I want John to keep his sanity?'

'Because he makes Sherlock have more fun solving the crimes you create.'

'He's not supposed to have fun.' Mary raises a single eyebrow. 'Okay maybe he is.' Mary laughs gently and playfully shoves him. Jim pokes her before leaning his head on her shoulder.

'Still just a big kid.'

'Am not.' Jim protests not moving.

'Look at what you are doing. And tell me you aren't a big kid.'

'Whatever.' Mary chuckles and hugs him tightly. 'Do you want a story?' She asks jokingly. Jim straightens up.

'Why would _I_ want a story?' Mary laughs loudly and rises from the bench. Jim stares at her.

'Come on.'

'Where are we going?'

'You'll see.'

Greg wraps his arms around his wife as she cooks their evening meal. She turns her head kisses his cheek. 'Guess who I bumped into earlier.'

'Err. Queen Elizabeth the second.' Mary chuckles. 'Okay maybe not. Second guess, Justin Timberlake.' Mary pulls a horrified face making Greg chuckle.

'Last chance.'

'Jim Moriarty?'

'Yep.'

'How was he? Not planning anything too horrific I hope.'

'He didn't say. But he's healthy.'

'What happened?'

'He walked up behind me with a coffee just the way I like it. We talked and I took him to Camden Market to wander around.'

'Did you get a feeling that he was planning something?'

'Greg, he's Jim. He's always planning something.'

'How long till dinner?'

'Long enough for you to have a shower.'

'Mary Lestrade, are you trying to imply something?'

_**A/N:- This is for Jess Start-Lover of Downey Jr (again) and mvignal who both wanted a return from Jim. Next time… Will Mycroft swallow his pride and call Sally?**_

_**Just a reminder to vote in the poll on my profile page...**_


	12. Love Hate Love

**Love Hate Love**

Sally and Sherlock sit next to each other as they watch the two blonde men sleep off the general anaesthetic they had been given for their surgeries. Sherlock is actually watching her out of the corner of his eye. 'You're thinking too much.' Sherlock says curtly. Sally smirks and playfully shoves him. 'Mycroft hasn't been by again.'

'I doubt he will.' Sally remarks sadly. Sherlock looks at her with a raised eyebrow.

'Why?'

'I may have shot my mouth off.' Sherlock lifts his arm up and hesitates. He makes a decision and wraps it around Sally.

'What happened?' Sally shakes her head showing the detective she doesn't want to talk about it. 'Do you want me to talk to him?' Greg groans and begins to stir and the two of them disentangle themselves and rush over to the bed to comfort him. Sally neglects to answer the question.

Mycroft sits in his study and watches the CCTV belonging to the hospital. He waits for Sally to leave Greg's and John's room, making sure that when he visits he won't bump into Sally. However, as Sally is on screen he knows that she is no longer in his flat. He rises and heads through to the kitchen to fix himself a large pot of tea. He chances a glance at the telephone pad. He picks it up. '"Mycroft, I'm sorry. Please call me when you are ready. Sally" Yeah right.' He dumps the pad right back where it was, noticeably not destroying the message. He walks into the kitchen to make his pot of tea. He returns to his study and enjoys the beverage. He leans back in his chair after turning his computer off. He closes his eyes for what he thinks will be a few minutes but in reality will be two hours.

'"Mycroft, I'm sorry. Please call me when you are ready. Sally" Are you going to allow me three guesses about what she said.'

'Enlighten me.'

'She called me a freak.'

'And?'

'You.'

'Keep going.'

'After saying she wanted to throttle me.'

'Exactly.'

'All while in the heat of the moment.' Mycroft stays silent not willing to confirm it. Sherlock smiles at the lack of denial. 'She hates that you aren't talking to her.'

'It hasn't even been a day.'

'Then tell me you have reached for the phone and dialled her number.'

'I haven't.'

'Look me in the eye and repeat that statement.'

'I can't.' Mycroft waits for the crow of delight, but it doesn't come.

'I don't mind her calling us freaks.'

'It's an insult Sherlock.'

'Not from her, not any more.' Sherlock huffs with laughter. 'The bite it used to have has completely gone.' Mycroft snorts in contempt. 'it's a term of endearment from her now. If you don't believe me just ask Mary. She match made the pair of you.' Sherlock leans back in his seat and keeps quiet allowing his elder brother to absorb the information.

'Honestly?'

'Honestly. And I was actually surprised to see her when she did turn up.' Mycroft opens his mouth to deliver a snarky retort but a possessive glint enters Sherlock's eye stopping him. 'She has been listening to my deductions and learning from them, before you say anything.'

'Sherlock-'

'What exactly did she say?'

'She said 'I am not a walking encyclopaedia like you and your freakish brother."'

'She's smart, Mycroft. Not quite as smart as us, but she's happy, and eager, to learn. Please do me one favour, Mycroft. Just one.'

'What's that?'

'Don't drive her back to Anderson. She's a hell of a lot easier to work with since John and I regressed.' Sherlock lays a hand on his brother's shoulder. 'I know you miss her. Don't deny it, you know it's true.' Sherlock leaves to go back to his father and his other brother.

'Sherlock, invite her back here for me.'

Sally enters the flat and wanders through to the study. 'Mycroft?'

'I'm sorry.' Sally smiles sadly.

'Who are you and what have you done with Mr Mycroft "Iceman" Holmes?' Mycroft chuckles. 'I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have mouthed off like that.' Sally comes up behind Mycroft and embraces him.

'I should have given you a chance to explain. I love you.'

'I love you too. My crazy government. You're my freak and it's a small part about what I love about you. Sherlock's my new freakish best friend, the one who's completely crazy but that's what is loved about them. I bet Sherlock asked you not to drive me back to Anderson.' Sally feels Mycroft's answering chuckle. 'He doesn't have to worry about that.' Sally kisses Mycroft's neck. 'Come on. I got Chinese.'

_**A/N:- For those who don't realize, the words in the chapter title are the emotions that Mycroft feels about Sally after their fight. Next time… Dom, Greg and John have a 'boys' day out. Don't forget to vote in my poll!**_


	13. Today The Night Before

**Today; The Night Before**

Greg runs up the stairs to the Baker Street flat and bursts into the living room grinning. 'Did you get them?' John jumps up excited. Greg delve into his pocket and withdraws three tickets.

'Get what?' Sherlock asks slightly bemused.

'Brilliant.' John jumps up and examines the tickets. 'VIP box?' He asks sceptically.

'Mycroft may have helped me to get the best seats.'

'Course he did.' Sherlock mutters. 'What are they for?'

'Music concert. Not your style, but you could come with us if you want.' John separates the tickets as Greg speaks.

'Who?'

'Rolling Stones and The Who charity concert.' Sherlock scoffs and looks at the pair of them with an expression that says "not on your life". 'Your loss.' John mutters.

'I thought that we could attend as a family. But if you really don't want to go…' Greg shrugs. Dom climbs the stairs quietly and startles them.

'Tickets to the who and stones concert. Nice seats.'

'Dom.' John greets him. 'Got a spare ticket. Sherlock doesn't want to come.'

'Why can't your father go?' John fans the tickets.

'He is, as am I. So?' Dom reaches out for the tickets.

'I think the three of us need to go shopping.'

'Why?'

'VIP boxes. We need new clothes.'

'Use Mycroft's card.' Sherlock comes from the kitchen.

'Shut up Sherlock.' Greg and John chorus.

Two hours later, Dom and John re-enter the baker street flat carrying the bags from their fruitful shopping trip. Sherlock eyes the bags distastefully. 'Cheap shops.' He mutters.

'Told you it would work.'

'Never doubted it.'

'Yeah you did.'

'Okay.' Dom holds his hands up, still full of his shopping, in defence. 'I admit it I did doubt you.'

'I know him too well.'

'You do not know me that well, John Watson.'

'I know you well enough that I knew you would sneer at the department store bags we brought home.' John takes a bag from a specialist designer shop out of one of the bags from a department store.

'Very clever John.'

'And that's ten quid please Dom.'

'You betted on me.' Sherlock looks hurt but John isn't convinced.

'We were bored.'

The next morning Sherlock emerges from his bedroom, having retreated there when Greg arrived to pick up Dom and John before the concert, and stops seeing two unconscious men lying in the living room. 'Okay.' He breathes retreating slightly into the kitchen to start making hot drinks for them to wake up to. He hears footsteps in the room above the kitchen, John's room. _John's up_ Sherlock thinks. Dom stirs and sits up on the sofa. 'Tea or coffee?'

'Tea. Dash of milk, one sugar.' Sherlock makes four cups of tea and carries two of the mugs through the living room he hands one to semi-conscious Dom and waves the other under his father's nose, withdrawing it quickly as the detective inspector jerks awake.

'Subtle.' Dom observes.

'Works better with coffee.'

'Genius.' Greg breathes snatching the mug from Sherlock's hands.

'Careful.' Sherlock warns. John stumbles down the stairs and nearly falls over causing Sherlock dive to catch him. The consulting detective guides his paternal brother into the detective's armchair as Dom is in John's and Greg is taking up the sofa. John tries to get back up but is pushed back down by Sherlock. 'Stay.'

'Not a dog Sherlock.' John growls.

'Then do as you are told.' Sherlock counters as he returns to the kitchen to retrieve his and John's teas.

'Saviour.' John breathes accepting the tea from Sherlock.

'Good night was it?' Sherlock asks sarcastically looking over at his violin.

'Don't even think about it Sherlock.'

'It was rather good.'

'Can you remember anything.'

'Go on.' John says carefully

'Only, judging from all three of your demeanours this morning you consumed rather a lot of alcohol.'

'Four pints each.' Dom mutters. 'I drink more than that on a night out.'

'Four pints plus loud music thudding through 500 watt amps and 1000 watt speakers do tend to give you a stonking headache the next day.' Greg says sarcastically.

'And you wondered why I didn't want to go.' Sherlock sips his tea looking around at the other three in the room. Dom glances at the clock and groans. 'It's Sunday.' Dom relaxes back into the chair. John finishes his tea and waders back upstairs.

'I'm having the first shower.' He mumbles.

_**A/N:- This was requested by Jess Stark-Lover of Downey Jr. Next time… All the important characters have dinner. (Apart from the obvious who are the important ones? Can you deduce them?)**_

_**The poll will be closing soon if you want to take control of the situation then get voting!**_


	14. Dinner for Nine?

**Dinner for Nine?**

Sherlock and John open the door to Angelo's and within moments proprietor with the same name as the restaurant is out of the kitchen and eagerly shaking Sherlock by the name. 'Sherlock, good to see you again. Anything you for on the house.'

'Be a bit expensive for you, Angelo.' John smiles. 'We're having dinner with several people tonight.'

'Through to the back.' Angelo ushers them between the tables and into a private dining cum conference room. 'You must be the first to arrive.'

'Of course we are, Angelo.' Sherlock brushes the enthusiastic man away before the restaurateur can tug his coat off and risk ruining the expensive fabric. 'Bring them in will you?' Sherlock asks

'Of course Sherlock. Anything for you.'

'And Angelo don't keep repeating that infernal story.'

'Yes Sherlock.' Angelo backs out of the room to head back to the kitchen.

Greg and Mary arrive at the front door of the restaurant next but only moments before Mycroft and Sally. The four of them enter the private room and spot the two independent crime fighters lounging about waiting for everyone. 'someone looks relaxed.' Greg comments.

'He's promised to actually eat a full meal.' John gets in before Sherlock can open his mouth. The consulting detective throws the former army doctor a ferocious scowl.

'If looks can kill.' Dom mutters as he enters the room. Sherlock swings his legs down and sits up properly.

'Someone call Angelo, we're all here.'

'No we're not Sherlock.' Mary interjects.

'Mary, you didn't?'

'She didn't what?' John asks before realisation crosses his face. 'Not Jim?'

'Jim and Sebastian.'

'Moran, Sebastian _Moran_?' Everyone stares at him.

'What you going to do about it?'

'Ask for what you owe me.'

'How much?'

'Thirty.' Sebastian raises an eyebrow. 'Ten for the original bet, ten for no prompt payment and ten for falling into my trap.'

'Never ask Captain TC Watson how much you owe him.'

'When will you learn?'

'It seems never.' Sebastian hands over the money with good grace.

'DD or HD?' The two former soldiers glare at each other. 'Right. Explains that point.' Jim smirks knowing exactly what point John is talking about.

'Right, shall we?' Mary says before anyone can take the conversation out of context. Every one sits down.

Angelo clears the plates away after everyone has finished the main course. 'Are you going to have a third course detective?' Greg asks his younger son jokingly.

'Of course. Angelo makes the best banoffee pie in London. I took the liberty of ordering it for all of us.'

'Cheeky.' Sally pokes him in the arm.

'Right, a question for the geniuses.' Mary says. 'Everyone knows of the murder suicide.'

'Okay?' Jim says. 'explain.'

'What happens, theoretically, if you turn up to a supposed murder suicide but the forensic analysis says the suicide died an hour or so before the murder victim.'

'And the question is?' Sebastian prompts.

'How did it happen?'

'The obvious answer is that the suicide a rigged bullet to kill the murder victim probably in the doorway to the room where the to-be-murderer commits suicide.' Greg says.

'Too obvious.' Sherlock turns to Mary. 'Are we allowed poison?'

'Why not?'

'I would say two different poisons. Either a slow acting one for the murder victim and a quick one for the suicide.' Sherlock pauses.

'Or?' John encourages.

'Or, a poison for the victim, to be ingested at any time and the suicide commits suicide in what ever manner they want to.'

'How plebeian of you Sherlock.'

'What's your way then Mycroft?'

'Does it matter how the murder is committed?' Mary shakes her head. 'Well, I would make it look like double suicide. A noose around the neck of the murder victim with the knot not tight enough to kill out right but tight enough to choke him slowly. The murder however takes a quick acting poison.'

'Poison seems to be the popular choice.' Jim comments.

'And you would do it how?' The consulting criminal chuckles.

'_I_ wouldn't. I would send a lackey in and have them both killed.'

'Yeah me.' Sebastian mutters under his breath.

'Play the game Jim.' Mary chides.

'It's how I would do it. Don't be silly Sebby, my sniper is much too important for that.' A glower is thrown at the youngest man in the room by the sniper. 'Although if I had to get my hands dirty and organise it.' Jim smiles at Sherlock.

'You would fix up a plan and commit suicide while setting up a situation that forces the murder victim to commit suicide. That being murder because the victim has no other choice.'

'Got it in one. Have a sweetie Lockie.'

'Don't call me Lockie.'

'And don't start fighting.'

'You would be repeating yourself Jim. Or have you forgotten, you already did that.' At this point, Angelo enters bearing an armful of dessert plates effectively stopping the argument in his tracks. The conversation turns to a slightly less gruesome topic and after coffees everyone begins to rise and drift out of the restaurant, home to their various residences across the city.

_**A/N:- This is for 'Book girl fan' and 'otakudrawsalot ft. KanaNoHana' although this might not have been what you guys had in mind. Any how; Next Time… Why John is really called TC.**_

_**Guys this is the last chapter that will be uploaded before the poll is closed! Vote quickly while you have the chance**_


	15. Three Continents

**Three Continents**

'John!' Sherlock yells from the sitting room early one morning. 'Joohhhn!'

'Whaaat?' John yells back sleepily.

'Visitor for you.' Sherlock sings back. Sherlock turns to look at the soldier dressed in civilian clothes. He runs his eyes over the clothes and posture of the soldier. 'Back long?' Sherlock inquires.

'What?'

'Fusilier. Fifth Northumberland's?' The soldier nods. 'Clearly just back from Afghanistan and obviously a career solider.'

'The fusiliers?'

'You're here to see John.'

'I could have been RAMC.'

'True, the fusiliers were more likely.' The soldier leans back on the sofa and smiles at Sherlock. 'Was I right?'

'Yeah. I'm a fusilier. What else?'

'Don't encourage him.' John mutters as he wanders through the sitting room to the kitchen. He slides the door open. 'Sherlock.'

'Yes?' Sherlock says innocently.

'What's happened to the kitchen? And tell me why I shouldn't kill you slowly and make sure that you feel every thing right until the end?'

'Umm, an experiment and because you're my brother.'

'What happened?'

'I put the wrong reagent on my experiment. Mycroft was distracting me.' John seizes the ear of his younger brother and squeezes tightly.

'Blaming Mycroft for everything are we? You are extremely lucky that you are my brother and I do love you. You will have it clean and tidy by the time I get back from the pub with Lord Luck here.'

'Lord Luck?' Greg queries from the doorway having snuck up the stairs.

'Because he's the luckiest bastard in the fusiliers. We always thought he had actually married Lady Luck.'

'Why are you TC? You never actually said.'

'Three continents.' Lord Luck laughs. 'He hasn't told you?'

'Not yet.' Greg confirms.

'It isn't all that interesting.' John tries to stop this line of questioning. 'It's really boring.'

'The more you protest the more we want to find out the reason why.' Sherlock counters

'I know. Give me thirty minutes to get ready?'

'Take your time.' John glowers at him but heads back up the stairs.

'He's not usually still in bed this late.' Greg comments

'I may have kept him awake.'

'With the violin _again_?' Sherlock looks sheepish.

'Yes.'

'You have to stop doing this. This isn't over. I want to know about TC.' Greg turns to Lord Luck. 'What's your proper name?'

'Lucas-Liam Graves. Before Lord Luck everyone called me LL'

'And the "LL" became Lord Luck?'

'Yeah.'

'TC?'

'Everyone thinks TC stands for Three Continents because he's been with women on three different continents. But it ain't so. People who've heard of TC in the army but don't know the reason for the nickname reckon-'

'Is this important?' Sherlock interrupts.

'Yes, as a matter of fact it is.' Lucas deals with Sherlock's interruption with ease. 'As I was saying soldiers and other military assume it's to do with one of the missions he failed to come back on only to reappear three month later leading a rag-tag bunch of soldiers.'

'Rag-tag how?' Greg asks

'Soldiers from all over the shop. Britain, The States, France, Canada, a couple of Africans, a few middle eastern soldiers were in there too. Oh, and a couple of Aussies. Apparently he'd managed to pick up some of them from a different camp, they'd either been lost or stranded I think. But rumour has it that the first thing he said was' Lucas stands and stares at the mirror with a salute 'Captain John Watson, Commander of the Three Continents Division.'

'And that isn't so?' Sherlock is genuinely confused.

'Nope. That's when the name became famous as it were. TC is because he trained on three different continents, medically.' Sherlock frowns at the anti-climax.

'What?'

'John Watson is called TC because he was in great demand as a Medical Officer Cadet. He trained in North America, Europe and Asia.'

'North America?'

'Canada.'

'Europe, here in Britain obviously.'

'And France and Germany.'

'Asia would be Afghanistan and Iraq.' Lucas nods. John returns showered and dressed.

'I told you it wasn't that interesting.'

'You travelled a lot as a cadet.'

'Yes Sherlock. I did. Clean the kitchen. Dad, make sure he does please. Come on Lord Luck, I want to go and gamble.' John leads Lucas 'Lord Luck' Graves out of the flat and onto the street. Sherlock and Greg exchange glances.

'I like the nickname.' Sherlock says. Greg agrees.

'Come on Sherlock. I'll give you a hand and you can take all the credit.' Greg steers Sherlock into the kitchen to clean up.

_**A/N:- This is for JFreak and Porky Poo who wanted my take on the nickname of TC. And many thanks for Raliena for giving me another take on 'TC' for me to completely destroy. Hope you like. Next time… Mycroft struggles to find perfection.**_

_**THE POLL IS NOW CLOSED. REPEAT THE POLL IS NOW CLOSED**_


	16. Engagement Problems

**Engagement problems**

Mycroft wanders into his third jewellery shop and the looks at various array of jewellery. As he pauses by one of the display cases one of the shop assistants approaches him. 'Hello sir, may I be of assistance?'

'Not at the moment.' Mycroft smiles at her.

'If we can be of any help, please let us know.'

'I will do, thank you.' He glances out of the window onto the street spotting Sherlock staring in at him. He sighs, digs out his mobile and calls his brother. 'Did mother not teach you that's it rude to stare?' Sherlock grins at him as he aborts the call. Mycroft rolls his eyes and he turns away. Sherlock crosses the street to join his brother in the shop.

'What you looking for?' Sherlock asks knowing that his bad grammar would irk Mycroft. To the elder man's credit he doesn't rise to the challenge.

'Pass this on to anyone else. I will make sure-'

'Yeah yeah Mycroft. I know all your threats. They don't work on me. What type of thing are you looking for?'

'I think you have deduced it brother.'

'I have but I want to hear you say it.' Mycroft glares at his younger half-brother. 'A complete set or just the single item?'

'By complete set you mean what exactly?'

'Ring, necklace, earrings, bracelet.'

'Right.'

'What about this one?' Sherlock points at a necklace and earring set.

'No bracelet or ring.'

'Mycroft, does this say Sally and Mycroft or not?'

'It definitely says Sally.'

'Delicate but strong.'

'Oxymoron there Brother.'

'And that's your girlfriend all over.' Sherlock looks over at his brother. 'I dare you to deny it.' Mycroft indicates for an assistant to approach them. The head jeweller takes on the task of helping the Holmes brothers.

'I understand that all of your pieces are handmade and items can be requested to complement pieces that have been already made.'

'Yes sir.' Sherlock points to the double set he had been looking at.

'My brother wants to know if a ring and bracelet would enhance this earring and necklace set.'

'May I ask if it's for someone special.'

'Of course it is.' Sherlock scoffs. 'Don't try to imply that you haven't been listening in to our conversation.'

'Brother.' Mycroft warns.

'They were.' Sherlock protests. The jeweller has the grace to keep quiet and not deny it.

'I made these pieces, all the pieces in this case.'

'You would be able to make the other pieces?' The jeweller unlocks the case and points to the set Sherlock had been looking at.

'These ones?' Mycroft nods. He removes them from the case and places the necklace over the back of his hand.

'Perfect. Be even better if you would make the ring and bracelet.' As Mycroft talks to the jeweller Sherlock has his notebook out noting down the ideal dimensions of jewellery for Sally's wrists and ring-finger. He hands it out to the jeweller.

'What's this for?'

'The person the jewellery is for. Do we look like people who wear accessories?'

'Sherlock.' Mycroft warns. 'With the ring and bracelet to be made how much will these pieces be?'

'Three thousand, four hundred and fifty six pounds seventy eight.'

'Please hold these two pieces back. This is my assistant's number, please let her know when the final two pieces are finished.' Mycroft notes down Anthea's number and hands it over to the jeweller. 'I'll pay for them now.' Mycroft and the jeweller walks parallel to each other to the till in the deepest part of the shop. Sherlock watches them for a moment or before smiling to himself and leaving the shop. His fingers itch to take out his mobile but he refrains from doing so knowing that Mycroft might actually go through on one of the threats.

_**A/N:- Next time… Mary is attacked! What's Jim going to do**_


	17. Jim and Sherlock Get Revenge

**Jim and Sherlock Get Revenge**

Sherlock sits in an unfamiliar living room. He sits leaning back on the sofa making sure that anyone walking in either door would not be able to see him sitting there. Jim Moriarty enters texting on his phone. A couple of steps into the room he stops and cocks his head in confusion. 'Boss?' Sebastian asks behind him. 'What's wrong?'

'Sh.' Jim hisses narrowing his eyes as he scans the room. The consulting criminal focuses on the sofa.

'Four minutes Jim.' Sherlock comments sitting up to look at Jim.

'Shirley.' Jim smiles a false smile.

'Don't call me Shirley. Where is she?'

'Where is who?' For once Jim is genuinely confused. Sherlock stands and walks around the sofa to lean into Jim's face.

'Where is Mary?' All the colour drains from Jim's face.

'What do you mean, where is Mary?'

'She is missing.'

'Why would I take her? I care for her.' Sherlock steps back.

'If you didn't take her then who did?' He snaps. His phone rings. 'What?' Jim manages to listen to person on the other end of the conversation.

'Sherlock, we've found her. Get over to St Bart's. But find Jim first.' Sherlock scowls as he listens to his father give him instructions.

'Where was she?' Sherlock asks quietly.

'Dumped in Hyde Park.'

'Da-' Greg hangs up.

'She will be okay won't she?' Jim asks cautiously. Sebastian looks between the two of them really confused. Sherlock steps past the pair of them to the front door.

'Coming?' Sherlock asks Jim at the door. Jim hesitates, glances at Sebastian.

'Temporary truce?'

'Yes. A truce that is only permanent when it comes to Mary. Come on.' Sherlock strides through the door, not waiting for Jim to join him. Jim hurries after Sherlock but Sebastian lingers watching the open door before hurrying after his boss.

Jim and Sebastian catches up with Sherlock as he climbs out of his cab at the front of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. 'What is going on Boss?' Sebastian repeats for the umpteenth time.

'Shut up Moran.' Jim and Sherlock chorus.

'Just tell me.'

'She cared for me. she made me see that I can care for people. She is one I care for so shut it.'

'Come on Jim.' Sherlock strides into the hospital with Jim on his heels. Sebastian pauses absorbing the information before hurrying after the pair of them. he catches up as they stop outside a private room. Sherlock and Jim look in the window at Greg, John, Sophia and Mycroft. the young woman looks up at Sherlock and beckons for them to come in.

'Stay here. Moran.' Sherlock pushes the door open and enters. Jim follows on his heels.

'Hey Jim.' Greg says tiredly.

'Anything on CCTV?' Jim asks Mycroft. the government official hands Jim some papers.

'See what you can make of that.' Jim scans the papers before stuffing them in his pocket. He moves up to the side of Mary's bed where Sophia is sitting. Jim takes hold of her hand strokes the back of the hand with his thumb.

'Jim.' Mary's weak voice

'Miss Mary.' Jim quickly moves up to stand next to her head. 'I'm here.'

'Get them for me.'

'Who were they?' Mary murmurs something. Jim leans closer. 'Can you repeat that please?' Mary repeats it. 'I'll get them. when you sleep.'

'Leave us.' Mary croaks.

Sebastian watches all of them through the window. A nurse walks up to him and joins him looking through the window. 'She's a popular woman.'

'I don't know her.' They watch Jim move to listen to Mary.

'Don't you?'

'My boss is in there. Something happened a while back and…' Sebastian trails off shrugging. 'I don't know. He won't tell me.'

'You should go in.'

'I've only met her the once.' In the room every one except Jim rises and joins Sebastian.

'Nurse?' Greg is desperate.

'She just needs to rest. she will make a full recovery.'

'And her ribs?'

'Dad, weren't you listening. Her ribs will heal. Stop panicking.' John places a calming hand on his shoulder. 'Moran.'

'Watson.' The two soldiers looks through the window. Sebastian's eyes widen as he watches Jim act like a thirty-year-old toddler with Mary. John indicates for Sebastian to follow him.

'Stay here with our father.' John tells Sherlock. 'Moran, Mary is one of those people who can see the innate goodness in everyone. She has just shown Jim a little faith, trust and love.'

'What happened Captain?' Sebastian snarls.

'Colonel, Jim decided it was a very good idea to try and the recipe of a chemical that turns you into a three year old. Some of it spilt on him and he regressed. Sherlock and I had already regressed. Mr and Mrs Lestrade took guardianship of all three of us. Jim spent the most time with Mary. Let him have his time with her.' John returns to stand next to his father, brother and step brother. Jim steps out of the room and looks back in.

'Sherlock, she wants you.' Jim turns to go.

'Where are you going?' Greg asks. Jim's eyes glint evilly

'To hunt down the people who hurt her. Moran come on.'

_**A/N:- This is part one of two/three for zoofreakpkh who wanted Jim to save the day. Next time… antics of Kid!Sherlock and Kid!John.**_


	18. Waiting For Jim

**Waiting for Jim**

Eight year old Sherlock wakes up in his borrowed bed for the second time. He sighs heavily. 'I hate these clothes.'

'Go back to sleep.' John murmurs.

'Why are you awake?' Sherlock counters banging his head on his pillows.

'Stop it Shock.' John mutters tiredly turning away from him.

'Don? Are you cwying?' A sob is torn from John's throat.

'No.' he chokes.

'You are.' Sherlock whispers climbing out of bed disturbing a lot of dust. 'Donny, I have an idea.'

'What? Tic-tac-toe? You would get bored quickly.'

'What's wrong? Donny?'

'My name is John, Sherlock. Please use it correctly.'

'I though Donny made you laugh.'

'Just not now.'

'Is it your mum?' John nods into his pillow still facing away from the raven haired boy. 'What did you see?' Sherlock climbs onto John's bed and snuggles into his back.

'I don't wanna say.' John whimpers. 'Can you remember previous cases?'

'From before your time?' John nods.

'Or from the time you were…' John trails off.

'Did I ever tell you about the time I managed to bring down ten agents from four different companies?'

'Ten agents. Four companies.' John giggles. 'Yeah right. Not even I could do that and I save you butt on a day to day basis.'

'I did!'

'How?'

'Told one group that another had pointed the finger at them. I did the same to the other two groups then just brought down the survivors. I think Mycroft has them in one of his centres.' John snorts.

'Still don't believe you.'

'Made you laugh though.'

'Yeah, you did. And I have a idea.' John wriggles out of Sherlock's grip and slips into the corner and kneels into the dust. He sticks his finger into the dust and draws a line. Sherlock watches from the bed.

'What are you doing?'

'Sherlock Holmes is surprised. I should make you sign something to prove it later on.'

'I say again, what are you doing?'

'Drawing a tic-tac-toe board with a difference.'

'With a difference.'

'What do you think?'

'Depends on the difference.'

'Larger board.'

'There is a but I won't like in there. Am I right?'

'You have to play to win but lose. Each time every time.' John

'That's not fair.' Sherlock protests.

'That is exactly what you continuously tell me when you thrash me at chess.' John grins up at him. 'Think of it as a challenge. We all know how you love those.'

'I have to lose but play to win.'

'Yep.'

'Game on.' Sherlock plants himself opposite John.

'Last to five is the winner.'

'Not fair.'

'You're getting repetitive.' John chants. Sherlock scowls and nicks the opportunity to take the first move. 'Bastard.' The regressed army doctor breathes.

After three games the boys both sit crossed-legged with their elbows leaning on their knees and chins in their hands on the floor. Extremely bored. 'Three nil.' Sherlock mutters. 'When's Jim coming back?' John begins to giggle.

'You asking for Jim. No one is going to believe that.'

'No one is going to know will they?' John keeps giggling as he ignores Sherlock glares at his brother.

_**A/N:- In case any one wanted a little snippet of Kid! antics. This was requested by Bombidill95. More might be on the way. Next time… The revenge is taken.**_


	19. Revenge Permanent Security

**Revenge = Permanent Security**

Four men sit tied to chairs in a dark room in a circle and all of them face outwards. They are gagged and blindfolded. Large pieces of board are propped up to block any sightlines that could reassure them, increasing the feelings of claustrophobia. Jim and Sherlock stalk around the perimeter of the boards making sure their footsteps can be heard clearly by each of the restrained men. After what seems like hours Sherlock steps towards one of the men and ruthlessly yanks the blindfold off. 'Do you know who I am?' He asks the man gripping his head forcing the prisoner to look directly at him. He nods dumbly. Sherlock loosens the gag to rest on his chin. 'Who?'

'Sher…' The prisoner moistens his mouth. 'Sherlock Holmes.' He croaks.

'Do you know why you are here?' Sherlock feels the man shakes his head between his hands. 'Are you sure?' the restrained man nods. 'Completely positive?' The man nods again. Jim steps up to Sherlock's shoulder.

'100 percent?' The man's eyes widen at the sight of Jim. The consulting criminal props a picture on Sherlock's shoulder leaning it against the detective's ear. 'How about now?' Jim and Sherlock don't need to hear an answer as the colour drains from his face.

'This is Mary.' Sherlock says taking the picture from his shoulder

'I know.' The hostage whispers.

'The wife of Detective Inspector Lestrade.' Jim adds

'I know.' The hostage repeats.

'Who just happens to be my father.' The captive swallows nervously.

'And I just happen to care a lot for Mary, a second mother to me.'

'And me.'

'Does it seem like a good idea to have kidnapped her now?'

'Or hospitalise her?' The hostage half shakes half nods his head.

'You see if someone hurts the people we love.'

'We hurt those people back.' The captive tries to inch his chair back. Jim and Sherlock both seize an arm each, effectively immobilising him. Jim re-secures the blindfold and gag.

'Have fun.' The consulting criminal whispers.

'One down, three to go.'

'Then the fun begins.'

Five hours later Jim and Sherlock emerges from the basement covered in blood. Greg, John and Sebastian wait for them in the kitchen. 'You didn't kill them did you?' Greg asks his younger son as the elder one disappears down into the cellar.

'One might die of blood loss, if they don't get to hospital.'

'We need them alive.'

'Why?' Greg asks.

'Because if they die then word does not get out and Miss Mary will not be protected.'

'You want this Mary to be protected?' Sebastian asks doubtfully. 'Why?' Jim grabs him by the collar of his shirt.

'Because she cared.'

'You always said caring wasn't an advantage.'

'I was wrong. I didn't know her then. Didn't you listen to Johnny boy at the hospital?'

'Don't call me Johnny boy.' John mutters emerging from the cellar. 'All stable ready to be taken to hospital.'

'Keep two together and arrest them. Separate the others and forget about them.' Sherlock says. 'We need it out as quickly as possible.'

'You and Jim went far too far for two of them.'

'Mary only wanted superficial wounds.' Greg says quietly.

'We made sure they would make a full recovery. It might take time but they will. Nothing is destroyed completely.' Jim says inspecting his nails.

'Except their sanity.'

'I can live with that.' He looks closer at one nail and snorts in disgust. 'they put blood under my nails.'

'Such a girl.' Sherlock snorts.

'The ambulances are here.' Sebastian mutters staring at a computer putting a stop to the argument.

'We didn't order any.'

'We didn't.' Sherlock says. 'But Mycroft is sticking his nose in.'

'Be nice.'

Two hours later Jim and Sherlock stand side by side at the foot of Mary's bed looking at her. She watches them back propped up on pillows. 'How bad are they?' They both hesitate. 'Well?'

'One has several broken bones and a couple od dislocation.' Jim mutters quietly.

'The second has the same with slight blood loss.'

'And the other two have very minor concussion and one or two broken bones each.' Mary sighs.

'I wanted only very superficial wounds.'

'They'll all make a full recovery.' Jim protests clearly uncomfortable at the interrogation.

'Besides, they hurt you. We had to do something.' Sherlock adds.

'So what's the plan?' Mary asks obviously amused by the shuffling and school boy demeanours of the two genii.

'The two with concussion will be released to spread it around that you aren't to be touched. The other will be taken into the prison system and prosecuted.' Mary nods. she beckons the pair of them closer and takes hold of their hands.

'I appreciate it may have been difficult to hold back. But you both know that I don't like too much violence. And I am glad that the pair of you are prepared to set aside your differences to help me.'

'I will always help you. Miss Mary.' Jim whispers.

'I'm offended that you even thought that I wouldn't.' Sherlock adds. Mary laughs.

'Go on shoo. I want to sleep.'

_**A/N:- The second of two for zoofreakpkh. Next time... does Mycroft have the courage**_


	20. Mycroft Proposes

**Mycroft Proposes**

Sherlock strides into the homicide department trying to make it look like he has been threatened. John follows on behind with a small smirk on his face. 'What did you nick this time?' Donovan asks without turning her head.

'Who said I took anything?'

'I don't hear you denying it.' Sally looks at him.

'Touché.'

'A couple of files.' John interjects before Sherlock can change the subject. 'Go on.' He prompts Sherlock to head toward Greg's office. John wanders over to Sally's desk. 'Are you coming tonight?'

'It's at Mycroft's flat. Of course I'm coming.'

'Going where?' Anderson asks suddenly.

'None of your business.' John snaps. Sally leans back and the light from the windows catches the metal of her necklace.

'What's that?'

'What's what Anderson?' The forensic officer points at the necklace,

'It's a necklace obviously.' John drawls in a perfect imitation of his younger half brother. 'Mycroft?'

'I think so.' Sally muses. 'It was here when I came in this morning.'

'It was.' Greg says from his office. 'I caught him leaving it here.'

'How many have you found?' Sherlock asks.

'Why?' Sherlock's eyes sparkle. 'One.'

'Should be two more somewhere.' Sally starts searching her desk drawers and finds two more jewellery boxes.

'And how would you know that Sherlock?' Sally asks weighing them in her hands.

'I know Mycroft.' She places the two boxes on her paperwork and opens them. In the first is a pair of earrings matching her necklace. She opens the second box and sees the complementing bracelet.

'Very nice.' Greg says picking up the earrings. 'They suit you completely.'

'Sherlock, we've got to go.' Sherlock follows John with out complaining. Both Sally and Greg raise their eyebrows.

'What is going on with that boy?' Greg muses.

Sherlock and John climb the steps to the Baker Street flat. 'Sherlock, what are you up to?' John asks stopping halfway up the stairs. 'Tell me now.'

'I am not allowed to.'

'No you are not.' Mycroft says at the top of the stairs. before John can turn Sherlock flashes four fingers at him. John frowns at him. 'When are you going to pop the question Mycroft?'

'What question?' Mycroft asks innocently.

'Come on Mycroft.' Mrs Hudson says behind him. 'Pull the other one. It's got bells on.' John smirks at Mycroft's expression.

'How can you not know that Mrs Hudson is formidable Mycroft?' John smiles.

'I would expect nothing less from the landlady of my brothers.'

'If you say so Mycroft.'

'I expect you at the party later. All three of you.'

'We will be there.'

Mrs Hudson accompanies John and Sherlock into Mycroft's private lift. She giggles against her hand. 'What Mrs Hudson?'

'This is nice.'

'John and I could afford something like this. Yet we elect to stay with you. What does that say?'

'You love me too much.' Sherlock snorts.

'Sentiment.' The door opens stopping the landlady from replying.

'Welcome to my humble abode.' Mycroft says as they step into the flat.

'Sally here yet?' Sherlock asks innocently. Mycroft gives him a look to shut him up. Sherlock smiles broadly back.

'Yes as a matter of fact. She is.' Mrs Hudson looks around at the assembled people. Greg and Mary smile back at her. Sally grins at the boys and nods at their landlady. Behind them Scarlett and Dom are in a heated discussion. About what none of them are sure.

Twenty minutes later everyone is sat around the table in Mycroft's living room. 'Mrs Hudson, Mary. I want your honest opinions.' Mycroft speaks as he delivers plates of food to everyone. 'It's nothing fancy.'

'I prefer simple food Mycroft.' Mrs Hudson assures him with a broad smile.

'Enjoy.' He replies placing the last plate on his dinner mat. Every one digs in hungrily. Sherlock keeps glancing at his brother along the table.

'Sherlock stop it.' Scarlett snaps across the table

'Stop what?' Sherlock asks his mother.

'Stop trying to outwit your brother.'

'Which one?' John asks snidely

'Which one do you think?' Scarlett counters.

'Ah my poor baby brother.' John simpers pinching Sherlock's cheek.

'Get off.' Sherlock pushes John's hand away, drawing everyone's attention. Mycroft slips away and returns within moments. Only Sherlock notices his movements. Mycroft sends him a warning look. Chatter reverberates around the table but Mycroft doesn't take part preferring to chew his lip. 'Mycroft. Out with it.' Sally snaps after glancing at him several times. Mycroft jumps. Everyone stares at him.

'Out with what?' He asks attempting nonchalance. Sally lazily lifts an eyebrow. Mycroft sends her a winning smile.

'They don't work on me.'

'Are you sure about that? Everyone finished?' All the other diners nod.

'Very good Mycroft. I'm impressed.' Mrs Hudson comments.

'So am I.' Mary adds. 'Very impressed.

'I'm only impressed that you remembered all the skills.' Scarlett mutters snidely. Sherlock snorts and John smacks him around the head.

'Behave little brother.'

'Ganging up on me. How plebeian.'

'Careful Shock.' Sherlock scowls at his blonde-haired brother rather than the auburn-haired. Mycroft rises and gathers the plates. Sally rises but Mycroft sends her a glance that makes her retake the seat. Mycroft carries the plates into the kitchen and lingers to cut up the chocolate fudge cake. He places the plates in front of everyone including himself but excluding Sally. She looks up at him with a bemused expression.

'Don't worry, you'll get your cake.' Mycroft disappears back into the kitchen and returns bearing a cake plate and a small ring box. He places the plate in front of her before sinking down onto one knee. 'Sally Donovan, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

_**A/N:- Hehe, I'm really evil… aren't I? *runs and hides* Sorry! Don't worry it's already written I just wanted to draw it out. Next time… More Kid! antics.**_


	21. Kitchen Accidents

**Kitchen accidents**

'Where are you?' Greg sings as he pretends to look for the pair of toddlers. He knows that they both are hiding behind the sofa in their playroom. 'Where are my favourite three year olds?' Giggles emerge from both ends of the sofa. The slightly higher pitched from Sherlock at the end closer to him. He purposefully avoids the sofa and pretends to look under the beanbags and the behind the bookcase. Mary opens the door and leans against the frame looking down at Sherlock. He peers up at her with his eyes wide. He puts his finger to his lips and pouts.

'Where are Shocky and Johnny?' Mary asks mock seriously. Greg looks at her with wide eyes and with a big grin.

'Why do you need them?'

'It's dinner time.'

'Not hungwy.' John shouts from his end of the sofa.

'Sh.' Sherlock hisses. Out of sight of the two toddlers Greg points Mary to the opposite end of the couch. Mary swiftly moves over and together they pounce on the boys pulling them out from behind the sofa.

'Found you.' Greg laughs into Sherlock's ear. Greg throws the boy over his shoulder and carries him still laughing from the room. Mary carries John with more dignity on her hip. John leans his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes. From the kitchen the pair of them can hear Sherlock still giggling before a small scream and a muffled curse from Greg. John's eyes fly open and Mary hurries through. They find Sherlock and Greg both sprawled on the floor. A shocked expression on the toddler's face and an agonising one on Greg's. Mary tries to keep herself from laughing. John peers down at the pair on the floor. He unhooks his arms from around Mary's neck and reaches out for Greg almost in tears. Greg manages to pull himself to his feet and lower himself into a chair. 'Give him to me.' Mary hands John over and Greg settles him into his lap. 'I'm okay. I just tweaked it a little.' John buries his head into Greg's arm.

'Take him into the Playroom and talk to him.' Mary says gently scooping Sherlock off the floor. 'Sherlock, can help me serve dinner.'

'Donny.' Greg gently shakes John. 'I need you to walk for me.' John nods tears rolling down his cheeks and wriggles off Greg's lap to the floor. Greg stands, winces and takes John's hand leading him back to the playroom. John watches Greg as the detective inspector walks. Mary and Sherlock watches them traverse back to the playroom.

In the playroom Greg settles on the sofa and gathers John onto his lap. They sit for a couple of minutes. 'It's just an old injury, Donny.' Greg whispers. 'It'll will be fine because I often do it. I just need to repair the floor separation between the hall and kitchen.' John slips off Greg's lap and snuggles into his side.

'I… I… th… thought.'

'You thought you had lost me.' John's nods sadly into Greg's arms. 'It isn't going to happen. Not while you are still a child. John, I just need to rest it.'

'And you will. Because we're having dinner in here.' Mary says entering the room carrying three plate. Sherlock toddles behind her carrying the fourth concentrating very carefully. Mary hands one of the plates to John and Sherlock lifts the plate he's carrying towards Greg who accepts it. 'I cooked finger food for a reason.' Sherlock climbs up onto the sofa and snuggles into Greg's other side. Mary gives him his plate and sits on the bean bag with hers. John is a lot happier as all four of them tuck into their food. Greg keeps his arm wrapped around John's shoulders to keep him secure

_**A/N:- Last time they were eight – I had to a drabble with them as three year olds! Next time… What will her answer be?**_


	22. Yes Or No?

**Yes or No?**

Sally punches in her personal code for Mycroft's private lift. She grins broadly and stupidly. She chuckles randomly and shakes her head. One of the occupants from a different flat exits the other lift and stares at her. 'What? Do I have something in my teeth?'

'He's a weirdo up there.'

'Pardon?'

'Only reason I can think of that he should have a lift to himself.'

'Maybe because he owns the building or because he a lot more important than you.' Sally snaps at him. The lift doors open and Sally steps through, saving the tenant from her wrath. As soon as the doors close, the smile breaks out on her face again. She looks up at the security camera and grins. She pulls a necklace from under her shirt and unfastens it.

Up in the flat Mycroft paces the living room having stayed locked in the flat all day, after everyone had left after the proposal party. He is still dressed in the clothes that he wore to the party. Several half eaten plates of food sit dotted around the room. Mycroft keeps looking at the plates before quickly looking away feeling queasy. He ignores the ringing of all four of his phones. His political emergency mobile, his public mobile, his landline, and his private mobile. Uncharacteristically tense, Mycroft fails to hear the lift door open. Sally steps out and watches him pace. She watches him pace and look at the plates of food. As she leans on the doorframe she notes the time on the clock and starts timing how long it takes for her fiancé to spot her.

Mycroft continues pacing for another hour with Sally watching him from the doorway. 'Sixty minutes.' She finally says. Mycroft jumps and falls onto the sofa. Sally grins. Mycroft gapes at her wordlessly. Sally tries to stop smirking at him. Failing she allows herself to burst out laughing. 'Don't retaliate but you are turning into your brother.'

'No I'm not.'

'My Mycroft does not skip meals. It's part of what I love about him. If he has missed not one, not two but three meals then something is up.' Sally kisses his neck. Her hands slip down his chest. The ring glistening on Sally's finger. 'When I'm working it lives next to my heart.'

'So it's a yes?'

'What do you think my genius?' Sally laughs. "Of course it's a yes.' Mycroft sighs with relief 'Sherlock reckons I should have said yes straight away.'

'He said that?'

'Quietly. In his father's office. This morning.' Mycroft pulls her onto his lap and the two of them cuddle. 'I only didn't want to say immediately because I wanted it to be completely private. I love you, Mycroft Holmes.' Sally smiles and removes herself from his embrace. She walks to the door and holds her hand out. 'Come on dinner's on Sherlock.' Mycroft stands and walks over and kisses her deeply.

'Let me get changed.'

_**A/N:- Aaaand there is your answer peoples! This was requested by FairyFriender. Next time… John doctors both Sherlock and himself.**_


	23. Doctor John

**Doctor John**

As John sits down after walking into the quiet flat, his phone rings making him sigh heavily. 'John Watson.' he says into the speaker phone. 'What's he done now dad?'

'Sorry John. Sherlock's got himself into a bit of trouble.'

'Define, "a bit of trouble".'

'This is Sherlock we're talking about.'

'Look Dad.'

'John, I know you've only just got in from the clinic but I need your help. Sherlock won't let anyone treat him. I asked him if he would let you treat him and he agreed. Only the paramedics won't let him go.' John growls audibly.

'Get them to bring him here.'

'They say if he's being moved he's going to hospital.'

'Fine… you owe me big time. Make sure there is one massive cup of tea waiting for me. I'm on my way.' John rises and stares longingly into the kitchen at the kettle. He gathers up the medical bag he keeps to treat his younger brother. 'Sherlock, this better not be a waste of my time.' He mutters walking out of the flat and hailing a cab.

John's cab turns into the road where the crime scene is situated. One of the officers stop the cab in his tracks. 'I'm sorry but this road is blocked.'

'I am not walking half the road.' John says evenly.

'If it's John. Let him through.' Greg shouts.

'That's me.' John gives the officer a look that says "get in my way and good luck."

'Go through.'

'Thank you.' The cab rolls under the lifted crime scene tape. As John leans back mentally preparing himself for the inevitable fight with his brother he misses the driver's comment. 'What?'

'You have to be pretty important to be allowed privileges like this.'

'Yeah it's something like that.' John mutters.

'Hey John. He's inside.' John pulls a face to his father's words.

'I guessed.' John climbs out of the cab. Greg grabs the medical bag.

'When ever you come specifically for Sherlock I swear this bag gets heavier.'

'That's because that's the one I use for Sherlock. Exclusively. Permission to punch him after I fix him up.'

'Granted. I get to punch him next.' John grins.

'Agreed.'

In the house, two paramedics attempt to fuss over Sherlock. His expression clearly wants the two of them out of his personal space. 'Out.' John orders them. They jump and Sherlock rises. 'Sit.' Sherlock does noting John's expression. 'Do you have to get into this sort of trouble?' Sherlock opens his mouth to answer. 'That was rhetorical.'

'John, I-'

'Shut it Sherlock.' John says tiredly. 'I was hoping that I could have a peaceful evening. But no, you have to ruin it. After I fix you up, you are spending the night with our father or your brother. Don't even think about coming home to Baker street tonight. I will kill you.'

'Understood, brother.' Sherlock murmurs as he takes off his shirt to allow John's examination.

'Bruised ribs. Slight concussion. Suspected internal bruising to stomach and liver. Sprained left wrist and potential hairline fracture in right radius. How many times were you hit in the head?' Sherlock glances down. 'I need an answer.' Sherlock still refuses to say. 'Greg?'

'Four times. Once to the temple, twice to the back of the head and finally the face.'

'I have a thick skull.'

'That. We know.' John mutters. 'Which ever place you go get ice put on your stomach and keep the room cool. After you go to the hospital for an arm x-ray and CT scan. I suggest Mycroft.'

'I would never ask him for anything.'

'Sherlock. Each of his rooms are conditioned separately. ,Actually I don't care Sherlock. I advise you to go there but I'm too tired to fight you Sherlock seeing as you've kept me up for the last week. If I don't dedicate the next few nights to sleep I will snap.' John leans his forehead against his brother's 'I'm trying to save you from me. Just do it.' Sherlock nods. 'Mycroft will be here by now. I texted him on the way here.' John turns, collects his bag from his father and leaves the scene. He gets back in the cab. 'Fare taken care of?'

'Yes sir.'

'Take me back.' The cab drives him home.

_**A/N:- Next time… John initiates Captain/commander mode**_


	24. Soldier John

**Soldier John**

John wakes up to a very quiet flat. at first he is worried because everything is too quiet but then he remembers about the previous night. He sighs happily. The first full night's sleep in a long time. waking up to the alarm is a reward well earned. His phone beeps. 'Can I come back?' He reads aloud from the text. 'Let me think about that. Err no.' John fires off a reply and collapses back onto the bed. The mobile rings. John switches it to speaker. 'What Sherlock?'

'Please let me come home.' Sherlock's tone is clearly pleading.

'Let hell freeze over. Sherlock Holmes is pleading.' John's is sarcastic. 'No Sherlock I still need time to rest. Stay with Mycroft, Sherlock. Help him plan. I'm going to the clinic coming home again and you will still not be there. The flat will be quiet and untouched as I left it.'

'But John.'

'Maybe tomorrow.' John glances at the clock. 'Sherlock, you're not even here and still you're making me late. I might ring you later.' John hangs up before his younger brother can reply. He heads into the shower and ignore the ringing of the phone, both the mobile and landline.

An hour later, he walks into the clinic and picks up the folders that are for the patients he is to see for the first half of his shift. 'You look exhausted.' Sarah Sawyer comments as he enters the main office.

'Yeah. Banned Sherlock from the flat. Threatened him if he came home last night. I told him to stay at _his_ brother's. Last night was the first night in a couple of months that I've actually had a full night's sleep.' Sarah smiles sadly. 'I know.' John grins a wry grin and retreats into his consulting room. he attends to all the sickness and injuries that he regularly attends to locking his tiredness away.

Five patients in a scuffle is heard in the corridor. Shouting in a middle eastern dialect is heard. John frowns but concentrate on his current elderly patient. 'You can go if you feel that you are needed.'

'You are more important Mrs Rayman.' John says evenly just before Sarah bursts in.

'John, you were military?'

'Yes.'

'We need you.'

'Excuse me.'

'I did say you should have gone.' John smiles at her. Sarah smiles warmly at Mrs Rayman as John slips past.

'He shouldn't be gone long.'

'Tell him to take his time.'

'Thank you Mrs Rayman.' Sarah closes the door.

In the corridor, John strides down the corridor. All the onlookers steps out of his way. his bearing is distinctly military and is strictly no nonsense. 'What's his name?'

'Lieutenant James Ryding.' Another doctor says instantly.

'Serving?'

'Yes.'

'Lieutenant.' John snaps. 'Stand to attention. Release him.' The doctors and security men stand back. The soldier snaps a salute.

'Lieutenant Ryding. 10938343. Sir.'

'Regiment?'

'Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Sir.' Lieutenant Ryding licks his lips. 'May I ask a question sir.'

'Go ahead.'

'What's your rank?'

'Captain John Watson. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and RAMC. Retired.'

'Three Continents Watson?'

'Affirmative. Don't ask.' John warns the doctors. 'Why were you struggling?'

'They wouldn't let me see my son sir.'

'Stop it with the sir.'

'Why? Doctor Shepard?'

'Rare infectious disease. He needs to be isolated.'

'I want to see my son.' James Ryding demands.

'Lieutenant. Calm down.'

'Please, he's all I have.'

'His mother?'

'Died six months ago. Came back to bury her and help him grieve.'

'Do you intend to retire?'

'Hoping to transfer to a desk job or training recruits.'

'How long left of your deployment?'

'Four months. Heading back out in two weeks.

'Lieu-' John holds his hand up to stop Doctor Shepard from completing her comment.

'What's his name?'

'Tyler. Tyler Jethro Ryding.'

'Where is he?' John turns to the doctor. 'Doctor?'

'My Room.'

'Chart.' John glances down at the paperwork and turns to walk back down the corridor.

'It's contagious.'

'I've already had it.' Doctor Shepard and Lieutenant Ryding start to follow him. he turns back. 'Stay. Both of you.' John edges into the consulting room. 'Sarah, take care of my patients please.'

'Sure.'

Ten minutes later, John comes back out and heads into the bathroom to wash up. When he comes back out of the bathroom. 'You can see him.' Ryding starts forward. John holds up his hands. 'But, you have to put on scrubs and wash up afterwards. And you can't touch him.'

'But?'

'I understand. I went though it too. You haven't had it and there is no vaccination. You will not be much use if you contract the disease too.' Ryding nods. 'Make sure you wear a mask.'

'Thank you Captain.'

'Take the rest of the day off John. Get some more rest.' John scrubs his face.

'You look like you need it Captain.'

'Doctor.'

'What?'

'I'm a doctor not a Captain now Lieutenant. Mrs Rayman, let me escort you home.' John peels away from the group and walks toward s his patient. 'it's the least I can do.'

'Did you know my husband and son both served?'

'No I didn't.'

'Navy and Army.'

'I hope you are proud of them.'

'Indeed I am. I would be honoured for you to see me home.' Sarah, Ryding and Shepard watch as John walks Mrs Rayman out of the door.

'That is one honourable man.' Ryding mutters. 'Damn proud to be in the same regiment as Three Continents Watson. He's the perfect hero.'

'Amen to that. Shall get you suited and booted before Tyler is transferred?'

_**A/N:- Written for sedeka who wanted John in Captain Watson mode. Next time… one, two, miss a few, ninety nine, a hundred; Ready or not here I come.  
**_

_**Guy's just to let you know I only have a couple more chapters in my personal archive and I'm running out of inspiration. If you don't want it to stop then please send some more prompts via PMs or reviews! Happy reading.**_


	25. Hide and Seek

**Hide and Seek**

John runs under the table and hides under the tablecloth. He tries to stifle his giggles with his hands as Greg noisily bangs things around pretending to look for him. 'Hey Mary. Have you seen John? He refuses to come to the bathroom.'

'How filthy is he?' Mary asks from the doorway.

'Very filthy.' Greg replies stressing the first word but with a big smile evident in his tone. 'What about Sherlock?'

'Can't find him. Was he this tricky as an adult?'

'If anything, he's currently worse as a three year old rather than a thirty year old.' John giggles again under the table and crawls to the end of the table where Greg and Mary stand near the door.

'Wait did you hear that?'

'Under the table or in the kitchen.'

'Check the table first.' The two Lestrades walk to clear the door and crouch to look under the table cloth. As Greg lifts the fabric John wriggles out of the other end and runs out of the room. He pauses at the door and looks back, his eyes sparkling. Mary watches him over the table. John sticks his tongue out. Mary pretends to be offended with wide eyes, open mouth and her hand at her chest. John grins and runs off. Mary playfully pushes Greg over. He falls over theatrically.

'Mary! How could you?'

'Stop being dramatic and get up.' Mary stands up and steps around Greg. 'We have two toddlers that desperately need a bath.'

'And don't I know it.' Greg mutters as he pulls himself to his feet.

'What her name?'

'Whose?'

'Sherlock's mother?'

'Oh, Scarlett.'

'I don't envy her. Bringing up Mycroft and Sherlock together.'

'Oh, they were close until Mycroft went away to study.'

'All three of them would have been a complete nightmare.'

'John and Sherlock are enough for me.' Greg mutters. 'Playroom or Kitchen?'

'John, kitchen. Sherlock, playroom.'

'Which one are you going to catch?'

'I'll leave you with John.' Greg scowls at Mary.

'Why thank you very much.' He mutters sarcastically as Mary heads to the playroom. 'I knew there was a reason I loved you.'

'I love you too.' Mary calls back.

'I was being sarcastic!'

'No you weren't.' Greg rolls his eyes and tiptoes into the kitchen to find the elder of his two sons.

'Johnny, where are you?' He sings as he enters the kitchen. Replying giggles comes from one of the cupboards.

'Greggy.' A tall toddler leaps on his back.

'Sherlock!' Greg gasps as the air is forced out of his lungs. Sherlock giggles intensely as he slips off his back.

'Where's Don?'

'Help me find him?' Sherlock screws his face thinking about his answer before shaking his head making his curls bounce wildly. 'Why not?' Sherlock shrugs.

'He Don.'

'He has won.'

'No he hasn't.'

'If you want to win. You have to find him.' Greg taps Sherlock on his nose. The raven haired toddler pushes Greg's hand away.

'Sthop it.' Greg laughs and leans closer.

'Find Donny and you can choose where we have lunch or dinner.' Greg whispers in the toddler's ear. Sherlock's eyes widen. 'Find him. Slowly.' Greg mouths. Sherlock pushes past him and starts rummaging though the cabinets. Keeping away from the double cupboard where John is hiding. Finally, Sherlock throws open the cupboard doors and tugs John out.

'Found him.' Sherlock beams. 'Can we go to Angelo's? Now?'

'For dinner.' Mary says behind Greg. 'Lunch is nearly ready.' Sherlock pouts.

'Cheat.' John pouts crossing his arms.

'Sherlock won.'

'You were to find me.' John's lips begin to quiver. Greg scoops him up and cuddles his close.

'Isn't it called delegation?' John nods. 'Sherlock? What do you think John should be able to choose tomorrow?'

'Everything.' Sherlock spreads his arms wide. John smiles.

'See he gets to choose dinner today you get to choose tomorrow.'

'The ZOO!' John shouts. Greg slides him off his knee and back to the floor.

'Ow. Could you shout any louder? That is not a suggestion.' Greg nudges Mary playfully. 'You could have warned me he was coming.'

'Why? He really wanted you to jump on your back.' Greg scowls at her. Sherlock and John share a glance and their big smiles get even bigger if possible. 'But first no more hiding, you two need a bath.'

'NOOO!' The toddlers try to escape but they both get caught firmly by Greg and Mary.

_**A/N:- Aren't they adorable? Next time… What was the wager between Sebastian and John?**_


	26. Desert Shenanagans

**Desert Shenanigans**

'Should you be doing that?' John asks a group of soldiers as he enters the base camp.

'Doing what Watson?' One soldier asks.

'Watson?' Another asks. 'Is that you? John Watson?'

'Depends. John Watson is a common name.'

'Did you grow up in East Anglia.'

'Still a common name.'

'Hertfordshire.'

'Very common name. Five different John Watson's in one year at my school.'

'I'm Tover.'

'Tover Tangiers?'

'Knew it was you. Should have been the most popular guy in the school.'

'No, I shouldn't have.' The soldier opposite John lays down his cards carefully.

'What shouldn't we be doing?'

'Playing for high stakes.' John swipes the deck of spare cards. 'What's the game?'

'The Ohio version of Texas Hold'em. Why?' John pulls up a chair and sits at the table. John smiles a careful smile not answering the question. 'I'll take it you will deal for us for the next two or so hands.' John changes his expression to a poker face and stares him down.

'I don't think we've met?'

'We haven't.'

'That was a suggestion for you to tell him your name.' Tover Tangiers mutters.

'Colonel Sebastian Moran.'

'Captain John Watson RAMC and Shiners. Your third?'

'Forth. Your third?' John answers with a nod. 'Each time I say no more but when I get home all I want to be is back out here.'

'Amen to that.' The soldiers chorus.

'Crazy the lot of us.' John murmurs. A pair of helicopters fly over the base.

'Medics!' a yell comes from the helipad.

'That's me. Gotta go.'

'You owe me a game Captain.'

'Count on it Colonel.'

'Not to seem forward sir. You do not want to play Captain Watson at anything. If he mentions a wager gratefully decline.'

'Why?'

'Because he has the best poker face in this entire outfit. He only proposes a wager when he is absolutely sure he can win. He rarely accepts a wager. Very fickle is our TC.'

'How did he get that name?'

'TC? No one knows. He won't tell us.'

'Talking about John "TC" Watson?' LL Graves takes John's seat.

'Do you know how he got that name?'

'Yep.'

'Do tell.' Moran demands.

'Sorry sir. but it's more than my life's worth

Ten hours later Moran waits outside the medical unit on the base for John to emerge. John steps blinking into the light. Moran steps forward to give him shade from the glaring son. 'Thanks sir.'

'Call me Sebastian. I am not your CO.'

'But you do outrank me.'

'Wrong outfit.' Sebastian lights up a cigarette. He inhales deeply and blows out the smoke. 'You still owe me a game.'

'Texas or Ohio?'

'Ohio. Harder to fix.'

'Game on.'

'What's the stake.'

'The first game. No stake.' Moran stops.

'Why?' he asks suspiciously.

'Because I don't know you. The first game I play with anyone is with no stake.'

Four days later a large group of soldiers gather in a wide circle. Sebastian stands on one edge of the group. John arrives on the opposite side. The colonel spots his arrival and makes his way over. 'You're quiet.' John comments as Sebastian approaches.

'You've got good hearing.'

'I've spotted for a couple of snipers. And saved the lives of my team. Plus a few others.' Sebastian looks at the combatants in the ring.

'Who do you think is going to win?'

'Sanders and Morgan? Morgan's a sure winner.'

'Ten quid says Sanders wins.' John turns to Sebastian and sticks his hand out.

'Done.' They shake on it.

As soon as the fight is finished. John's team is called to go on patrol. 'Hey, you aren't getting away without paying your debt. I'll be back for it.' John shouts as he runs to collect his kit.

'I'll count on it.'

'Hey Tiger Jack.' LL Graves

'What?' Sebastian snaps.

'What ever you do, do not ask him how much you owe him. He'll triple it.'

'Inflation.'

'The original stake, no prompt payment unless paid within three days. Oh and if he does ask for the money, do not ask how much.'

'The third lot.' Sebastian states.

'Yep. Lost about two hundred quid on top of stakes for asking how I owed him and not prompt payment.'

'Jesus.' Sebastian breathes.

'Apparently, he grew up in near poverty. He makes every penny count.'

'That why he joined the army?'

'He doesn't like to talk about his reasons for joining. If he says anything it's for queen and country.'

Five days later John arrives back at camp in a medevac helicopter. Colonel Sebastian Moran watches from the side lines as the Captain is transferred to the hospital and then onto a flight home. 'Guess I can't pay him now.' He mutters. LL Graves is next to him.

'Don't count on it. He'll remember. Always be ready to pay.' LL gives him a smile and walks away.

_**A/N:- This was requested by Arty Diane who wanted to know what their bet was about in 'Dinner for Nine?'. Took me a while to figure out what the bet was going to be. Next time… Sherlock can't find something**_

_**P.s sorry for the delay NCIS is trying to loosen the hold the greatest fandom in the world has over me. i will be updating this sparodically from now on. just to let you know**_


	27. My Kingdom For A?

_******A/N:- Sorry about the long wait, have been rather absorbed in writing and reading about other ****fandoms! However here is a long awaited chapter:**_

**My Kingdom For A?**

BANG! CRASH! SHATTER! THUD! BANG! THUMP! John winces at each loud sound coming from Sherlock's room. 'WHERE THE HELL IS IT?' Sherlock thunders through the open door.

'Where's what?' John yells back. The consulting detective storms into the living room.

'My scarf! Where is it?'

'How, in the name of god, am I supposed to know?'

'You always know where my stuff is.' Sherlock's angry tone becomes a petulant whine. 'Please John. You can always find my stuff.'

'Why should I do so now?'

'Because it will give me piece of mind therefore keep you sane.' John rolls his eyes and stays stubbornly in his chair.

'No.' He twists round to look at his brother. 'You can't just keep relying on me for ever Sherlock.'

'But John this is important!'

'It always is.' John mutters as he turns back to his paper. Sherlock strides into the living and leans over the back of John to crowd him.

'I've lost my scarf, John! My scarf!' Sherlock begins to pace frantically. 'I never loose my scarf. I always know where it is. I can't find it.' He stops in the middle of his pacing. 'Mycroft.'

'What about him?'

'I bet he stole my scarf. I wouldn't put it past him.'

'Why would Mycroft steal your scarf? I'm pretty sure that he has his own access to scarves if he should need one.'

'Who knows with Mycroft? He can be so petty when he wants to be.' Sherlock fumbles for his phone. John leaps up and snatches it from him.

'You are not shouting at him down the phone Sherlock. Or in person.' John points to the couch. 'Sit.' Sherlock scowls at him but follows the instruction. The mobile in John's hand begins to ring. 'Sherlock's phone. Hey Mycroft.' Sherlock begins to get up from the sofa but John glares at him and he subsides back to the cushions glaring at his blonde-haired brother. 'Mycroft, just one question. Have you seen Sherlock's scarf? He's lost it.' Mycroft's laughter echoes from the phone's speaker and reverberates around the room. Sherlock bolts to his feet. 'Sit down Sherlock.' John's voice is hard. He lowers the phone and presses a single button. 'Mycroft you are on speaker phone.'

'Sherlock, I do not have your scarf. I would not touch that scarf. I know how much it mean to you. especially after last time,' John raises his eyebrow at Sherlock. 'John, I'll ring you back later.'

'Okay Mycroft. Talk soon.' A beep sounds as Mycroft hangs up on the other end of the line. 'Sherlock, what is he on about?'

'The last time I was in rehab. He nicked my scarf to make sure I would stay inside until I was completely clean. I nearly murdered him when I got out.'

'Who gave it to you?'

'My grandmother.' Sherlock snorts. 'Who now isn't. Before she died.'

'She was the only one who completely understood you?' Sherlock nods. 'I bet I would have liked her.'

'She would have loved you, brother.' John sighs.

'Okay I'll look for it. But you stay here.' John points his finger at Sherlock warningly. The younger man nods. John goes into Sherlock's room. 'Why do you have to be so messy?'

'It's how I work!' Sherlock starts forward.

'Stay there!' Sherlock listens to John crunching around his room. 'You'd better clean this up after I find it.'

'I promise.' Sherlock mutters. John comes back to the living room.

'It's not in there. It's not in the kitchen, I would have seen it when I cleaned it earlier. And it's not in here. Sherlock I can't find it.'

'Find what?' Greg asks from the door, his hands behind his back.

'Sneaky.' John comments.

'What's he lost?' Greg asks nodding to the sulking figure on the couch.

'His scarf.' John raises his eyebrows at his father?

'His scarf?' Greg repeats. 'He's sulking because he's lost his scarf?'

'Pretty much.' Greg silently shows John the scarf, they smirk.

'Tea?'

'Please.'

'I hope you have a case. It might distract him.'

'Afraid not, I just came to visit my two boys.' The two of them slink through to the kitchen but Sherlock springs up, snatching the scarf out of Greg's hand.

'You found it! Where was it?'

'My house. Where you left it in the playroom when you came round yesterday.'

'Thank you.' Sherlock disappears into his room clutching the scarf. Greg's eye widen slightly

'Did Sherlock Holmes just say thank you?'

'Yep, you should have seem him when he couldn't find it. Talk about out of character.' John smiles. He and Greg share a quiet laugh and smile over their cups of tea.

_**A/N:- Fairyfriender suggested that Sherlock could be rather sentimental about his scarf. Next Time… Jim needs help!**_

**_Sorry again about the delay. Hope it was worth it_**


	28. Helping Jim

**Helping Jim**

Jim walks into the coffee shop right next door to the street door of Sherlock's flat. He seats himself where he can easily watch the comings and goings without being too suspicious. He watches clients enter and leave, some frustrated and others in tears. As each one enters Jim tries to think how interesting each client would be to Sherlock. The past time is so absorbing Jim neglects to notice the presence of a woman behind him. 'Have you got 100% yet?' Jim springs out of his chair and turns.

'Mary. Did you have to scare me?' She laughs gently.

'I didn't think that high functioning psychopaths got scared like that.' Jim gestures for her to join him at the table. 'Why are you ricking exposure sitting out here?' Jim hesitates. Mary laughs connecting the dots.

'I do not need his help.' Jim is adamant.

'Really?' Mary leans forward. 'I think that if you really didn't want his help you would already be up there.' Jim leans back increasing the space between them. 'If you're too scared. I can come with you.' She teases.

'If I needed help, which I don't, why would I need you to come with me, which I don't?'

'Then why are you still sitting out here?' Jim scowls at her.

'Why do you have to be so smart?' He snarls back.

'I am the stepmother of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I'm married to a very capable and respected detective at Scotland Yard. And I know how to read all three of them and more.' Mary smiles and rises. 'Coming?'

'Okay.' Jim agrees reluctantly rising as well.

Mary walks into the sitting room to see Sherlock slouching in his chair. 'BORED!' He yells at the top of his lungs.

'I might be able to help with that.' Mary comments.

'Mawy.' Sherlock slips into his old childhood lisp.

'What you have you done?'

'For once nothing.' John says. 'Except for being bored and pushing away all prospective clients. Hello Mary.'

'What are you doing here?' Sherlock demands spotting Jim lurking behind Mary.

'I'm gone.' Jim tries to make a fast exit but Mary is quicker.

'No you're not. In, young man.' Mary guides the consulting criminal into the room and firmly closes the door behind them.

'Holmes, Watson.'

'Moriarty.' John greets coldly. Sherlock just glares.

'Jim needs a little bit of your help.'

'Unofficially, of course.'

'We are unofficial.' John says coldly.

'What do you want Jim?' Sherlock snaps.

'Moran is missing.'

'So?' Sherlock shrugs it off.

'He's a soldier. Trained to disappear on a single whim.' John adds.

'Have you seen him in action?' Jim enquires at John.

'Yep, spotted for him a couple of times. And have been an opponent in a couple training exercises.'

'Tally?' Sherlock is interested despite himself.

'One each. He won the first. I won the second.'

'Why are you worried about him?'

'He's missed four check ins in. He might miss one but he always checks in.'

'Maybe he wants to get out of your employ.'

'Sherlock.' Mary chastises. 'Play nicely.'

'I give him a sweet deal. Holmes.' Jim snarls in Sherlock's face.

'Jim, Sherlock. Sit down now!' Mary finally loses her temper. Stunned the two geniuses can't help but obey.

'If Jim says Moran is missing, then Sebastian is missing. Pretend Jim is just another client and not your equal in virtually every way.'

'Where did you last see him?'

'My mansion.'

'When?'

'Six days.' Sherlock lifts a lazy eyebrow. 'The job should have only taken two.'

'What is the location of the job?'

'North London.' Sherlock sighs bored. 'Edgware, Dean's lane.'

'Fine, I'll take the case. It's of moderate interest.'

'Let me guess, you've already worked out where he is.' Jim comments dryly.

'Nope.' Sherlock rises and crosses the room. 'I'll contact you via Mary.' He grabs his coat. 'Come on John.' John gives a little groan before smiles apologetically at Mary and following Sherlock out of the flat. 'Make sure you aren't here when I get back.'

Sherlock climbs out of the cab and looks up and down the road. 'That's the house of Moran's job.' John looks in the direction of Sherlock's movement.

'I would ask how you knew that but it is sort of obvious.' Sherlock grins.

'The question is where did he go next?'

'No Sherlock.' John interjects, eyeing a military vehicle. 'The question is where would he not want to be?' Sherlock looks quizzically at him. John just nods and starts towards the fabric covered truck.

'Who goes there?' A voice asks after John's bangs on the tail gate

'Captain John Watson, RAMC and Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Retired.'

'Who's with you?'

'Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective. Civilian.' John replies.

'Come aboard.' John and Sherlock climb up and settle themselves on the uncomfortable benches at the back.

'What's been happening?'

'A deserter from Afghanistan.' A Colonel comments. 'Good to meet one of the few who live with a VC.' Sherlock stares at John with wide eyes. John nervously clears his throat. 'You never told him?'

'Why?'

'Does it matter? It's only a medal.'

'Modest as ever TC.'

'Wiggins.' John greets.

'Come on TC, I was there on the campaign. If anyone has ever deserved anything you deserve that medal and more.'

'Hear hear.' The other soldiers chorus.

'Might I have the name of said deserter?' John asks to change the subject.

'Former Colonel Sebastian Moran.' Sherlock and John exchange a look.

'May we talk to him?' The Colonel hesitates.

'Let me rephrase that. We need to see him immediately.' Sherlock states flashing Mycroft's access card. John rolls his eyes.

'Mycroft's?' John asks under his breath

'Who else?' Sherlock replies just as quietly.

The soldiers escort John and Sherlock through corridors to the interrogation room where Sebastian is being held. One of them open the door and allow John and Sherlock through. 'No one is to watch or listen.' Sherlock demands.

'Yes sir.' Sebastian, John and Sherlock wait silently for a couple minutes for the soldiers to clear the area.

'What are doing here?'

'Jim sent us.' Sherlock states.

'Like I would believe that.' Sebastian snarls.

'Mary made him consult Sherlock.'

'Now that doesn't surprise me. He besotted with that woman.'

'That woman has a name.'

'You two, calm it.' Sebastian and Sherlock scowl at him. 'This is what we are going to do. Sherlock you are going to flash your brother's card again and order that Sebastian was doing a sanctioned highly classified job for MI5.'

'Come on John they aren't going to believe that. He's a deserter and dishonourable discharge in absentia.' John merely lifts his eyebrows 'Oh. We're _employing_ him _because_ of the dishonourable discharge.'

'Exactly.' Sherlock strides to the door.

'Nice plan.' Sebastian mutters.

'Colonel. Release Mr Moran immediately. He has some paperwork to complete.' Sebastian sneers before smirking as his hands and feet are freed from the shackles.

'I could have freed myself you know.'

'I don't doubt it.' John comments. 'Let's go.' John leads the way out of the room.

'After you Moran.' Sherlock states. Sebastian simply follows John quietly.

'Give Moran back his weapon. All of them.'

'But, sir, most of them are illegal.'

'Don't you think that's why he was given them?'

Two hours later, Sherlock and John drop Sebastian off near to Jim's flat. 'Tell Jim he owes us three hundred for finding you.' Sherlock closes the door to stop all negotiation.

'Not that polite.' John comments,

'I just found a sniper who was safely in custody and released him allowing him to kill innocents.'

'He helps keep Jim entertained and killing even more.'

'I suppose.' Sherlock murmurs.

The cab drops them off at the flat and they climb out. John pays the driver and Sherlock heads straight for the flat door. John joins him and together they head up the stairs to find a note and an envelope waiting for them on the coffee table. 'I believe this should be more than adequate. Jim' Sherlock reads aloud. 'Five hundred. Good.'

Sebastian enters Jim's flat and immediately heads to secure his weapons. Jim hears him approach the front door, waits for him to pass and follows. 'So they found you then?'

'Watson did.' Sebastian replies shortly. 'Holmes demands three hundred for doing so.' Jim swears under his breath. The sniper closes his eyes. 'What?'

'I left five at the flat.' Jim glances at his watch. 'They'll have found it by now.'

'Holmes barely did anything. Watson came up with the whole plan. Told ya you underestimated him.'

_**A/N:- This is for StArBarD (cool name btw), the only way Jim could be in a sticky situation was if he had to ask Sherlock for help (in my opinion anyway). Next time… John's reasons for joining the Army (Just a hint - you might want to refresh your memory of the pranks in the original story, [33]) **_


	29. Army Signups

**Army Signups**

After eight-year-old John and Sherlock had finished clearing up after their pranks on Anderson they settle down in Greg's office. Greg walks back towards the squad room after walking the Chief Superintendent back to his office. He still giggles every so often in memory of the expression on Anderson's face. 'Only those two.' He mutters under his breath. Other officers raise an eyebrow or smile at the Detective Inspector as they pass depending on whether or not they have heard about the pranks of his sons. He re-enters the department and Sally waylays him.

'They remember everything don't they?'

'Most things. Remember, they are only eight at the moment.'

'Would you mind if I asked John a question?'

'"Why did he join the army?"' Greg knows the question. 'We've asked that question enough times and he wont' answer it. Why do you think he'll answer it now?' Sally shrugs.

'I guess with what we know now. He might feel that we understand his reasoning. I just curious to know what it is exactly.' Greg laughs gently under his breath.

'Way to kill the mood.' He mutters. Louder he adds. 'Come round tonight, we'll ask him then. Let's try and keep it between us, them and Mary.' Sally nods. Simultaneously, Anderson walks back to his desk as she nods.

'What's going on?' Greg and Sally ignore him and head back to their respective workstations. Anderson glares after them.

* * *

Sally knocks on the Lestrade's front door. the hyperactive young Sherlock answers the door with Mary close on his heels. 'Hi Sally.' He bounces back to the kitchen leaving the two women staring after him.

'Where he gets the energy from, I have no idea.' Mary groans. 'The iceman not coming?'

'No, Greg tell you happened?'

'You mean the pranks.' Sally doesn't answer. 'Oh yeah, he told me. What I would give to see the expression on Anderson's face.'

'I think we have it on CCTV footage.' Greg says steering Sherlock out of the kitchen.

'You do. Me and John made sure there was a camera pointing at him.' Sherlock states confidently.

'You, wash up, now.' Sherlock pouts but heads upstairs to wash his hands. 'John, time for dinner.' Greg calls. John pokes his head out of the playroom.

'Ok.' He notices Sally standing with Mary. 'Hey Sally.' He darts out of the playroom and up the stairs before Greg can admonish him.

'Hey.' Sally says to John's back. Moments later both boys come back down and head into the dining room. She turns her attention to Greg. 'So where did you disappear to before you texted me?'

'Raid on the place-' Greg silently indicates the two boys. '-were held. Then the meeting with Mycroft and Jim.'

'They holding up okay?'

'The joy of being a kid, they bounce back a lot quicker than we do.' Mary says. Sally and Greg smile at the statement. 'In we go.' Mary states just as.

'I'm hungry.' Sherlock shouts from the dining room.

'He's hungry. We got to let him eat.' Greg grins.

'Hungry.' Sherlock whines in imitation of the alien in episode of Doctor Who featuring the Queen's coronation.

'Young Sherlock loves Doctor Who.' Greg mutters sarcastically. 'Especially, the Idiot's Lantern.' Sally grins.

* * *

After dinner all of them settle in the playroom to wait for their bodies to digest the meal. Sally glances over at Greg nervously and he nods cautiously. Sherlock notices it and frowns at the pair of them. John spots the frown but ignores it seeing it as an adult protest against the metaphorical red tape from his eight-year-old brother and goes back to the book he had been reading before dinner. Sally glances at John before looking back at Greg. she begs him silently to start the conversation. 'Please.' She mouths. Sherlock's keen gaze also spots the pleading and puts two and two together working out that Sally wants to know about John's military career or his previous childhood.

'Hey, Sherlock.' Sherlock glares at his father.

'What?' He asks suspiciously.

'How did you enjoy the gift bags I sent you?' Sally lifts an eyebrow. John looks over the top of his book.

'They were useful.' He replies carefully. 'We got out easily enough.'

'Phones and lock picks. Good choices.' John adds. 'But then you knew that.' He states after a pause.

'What else would you have put in?' John stares at the Detective Inspector.

'If we were anywhere else then maybe some army rations, water, and medical supplies. If we were older a knife or gun.' John pauses thinking about anything else that could have been. 'Think that's it.' John attempts to return to his book, not liking where this is going.

'Still, there must have something you needed but didn't have.'

'What do you want from me?' John demands.

'Just making conversation.' Sally says slightly off balance from the force of John's demand.

'No, you're not. You want something Sally so just say it.' She hesitates, glancing around at Greg's and Mary's amused faces, John's irritated and Sherlock grimacing expressions.

'I was wondering why you choose the army rather than the straight medical profession.'

'I wanted to help.' John gives his standard reply.

'But you could and can help people by staying civilian.'

'I… I needed to get out of the situation and the Army was the best solution for me.' Everyone but Sally notices how John calls his life before medical school and the Army.

'You could have gone for the RAF, police force or navy. Why the Army?'

'First ones to get back to me. and the only one with an unconditional offer.' John closes his eyes. 'We'll pay for your medical schooling in return for a fixed term contract that is to be negotiated. There are not any specific grades required. Quote unquote.'

'The Navy and RAF?' Sherlock can't help but be curious.

'Neither appealed to me.'

'The police?' Greg enquires.

'Didn't apply. Although I think mum wanted me to. One of the fair things student go to, mum came with and spent a lot of time at the police stand. I went to other stands to get variety of options.' John pauses. 'Applications forms appeared in my final decisions pile. I know I didn't put it there.' John makes eye contact with Sally. 'Look, I joined the army because I felt that it was the best option for me. The friendship and brotherhood was bonus. And it got me away from my father. That clear enough for you Sally?' John rises abruptly and stalks from the room.

_**A/N:- That was for Arty Diane. Next time more Captain Watson!**_


	30. Activating Captain Watson

**Activating Captain Watson**

Greg and Sally are in the detective's office when banging from lower floors echo up the stairs and through the open doors. They glance at each other wondering what the hell is going on downstairs. 'Sherlock or suspect?'

'Is both an option.' Greg asks as his phone goes off. 'But my money would be on Sherlock.' Sally stares at him. Greg turns his phone around.

'If I see Sherlock, he is dead.' She reads off the screen. 'What's he done now?' Greg shrugs thinking that if Sherlock is running from the younger of his elder brothers then something must really be wrong. 'Is he coming here or going home?'

'From the sounds of it he's here.' Greg mutters grimly.

'Surprised he hasn't gone to Mycroft. John wouldn't look for him there. But he will here.'

'Safety here. Not there. Chances are Mycroft will serve him up to John.' Sally agrees to that.

'We are going to serve him up to John aren't we?'

'Oh yeah.' Sally grins at him and focuses her attention back to the paperwork as she tries to hide her grin. Greg does the same but he keeps an eye on the department's door to look out for his youngest son.

Sure enough Sherlock comes bursting in through the doors keeping an eye out for anyone following him. 'Daaaaaaaaad!' he yells as he run through them. He pauses for a moment to look around before dashing into Greg's office and scuttling under the desk. Every officer, both uniformed and plain clothed, stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment and astonishment.

'What did he just say?' Anderson asks snidely.

'He shouted "Greg."' Sally states simply managing to keep her mirth under control. She retreats back into the office and closes the door behind her blocking the three off from the rest of the police force.

'What did you do Lock?' Greg asks sitting in his chair, inadvertently (or not) kicking Sherlock as he situates his legs under the desk.

'Ow.' Sherlock groans. 'I didn't do anything.' He protests in a childlike manner.

'You didn't do anything huh?' Greg nudges him again. 'Try that again little one.'

'I might have accidently burnt a hole in his favourite jumper.' Greg bursts out laughing. Sally tries to control her laughter but giggles slip through.

'The jumper his mother gave him before she died?' Sherlock nods petulantly.

'Sherlock you are so dead.' Sally giggles. 'He loves that jumper.'

'It was an accident.'

'Read on purpose.'

'It's horrible.'

'It was his mother's. One of the last things he has of hers.' Sherlock pulls a face as he considers that but refuses to be moved from his position. A tentative knock sounds at the door.

'What?' Sally calls. The door opens and a sergeant sticks his head in.

'John is on his way up.' Sherlock attempts to convert himself into a smaller ball than he is already in. Greg nudges him to make sure he doesn't suffocate himself.

'Thanks.' He smiles at the sergeant.

'Fireworks?' Sally asks tone grim but her eyes sparkling.

'Almost definitely.' Greg states.

'Don't let him kill me.' Sherlock most definitely didn't whimper.

'I won't let him.' Greg reassures him. 'I won't be having my sons kill each other.'

'Even if you want us to?' Sherlock asks cheekily.

'Even if I want to kill one or both of you.' Greg states nudging Sherlock again.

'Sherlock!' John bellows as he enters the department. Silently every single member of the police force points to the closed door of Greg's office. John squares his shoulders and marches through the door way slamming the door behind him. 'Why Sherlock?' he tone becomes a pout. Greg rises and moves around his desk and places his hands on his elder son's shoulders.

'Calm down, John. He told me that he spoiled your mother's jumper.'

'Did he say why?'

'He said it was an accident.'

'Where is he?' Greg indicates the desk. 'Coward.' John huffs 'Did he tell you how or why?'

'No he did not.' John kicks the desk rather roughly.

'Hey!' Sherlock protests as it shifts.

'Stop it. the pair of you.' Greg puts his foot down metaphorically. 'Sherlock, come out from under there.' Sherlock reluctantly emerges but keeps the said desk between him and his brother. 'Sherlock sit down.' The consulting detective obeys. 'John.' Greg indicates for John to take the other seat in the room. Sally moves to lean on a filing cabinet. Greg, himself, refuses to let anything take his weight.

'Sherlock do you have anything to add to what you told us earlier?' He shakes his head stubbornly as an answer.

'Are you sure?' John asks.

'What did you actually do to destroy the jumper.'

'It was one hole. Not even a big one!'

'Right in the middle of the pattern.'

'Mrs Hudson could easily mend it.'

'That. Is. Not. The. Point. Sherlock.' John grinds out. He turns to their dad. 'he was doing an experiment on something to do with fabric, I won't even attempt to go into the details, so he goes into my room, my room, and through my clothes. Taking a couple of tees that I don't particularly like and my mum's jumper. He knew it was her jumper because Mary had only just brought it back from the dry cleaners with _his_ suits.' Greg holds up his hand to quiet the ex-soldier.

'Sherlock?'

'I might have noticed it when Mary handed my suits over.'

'And the experiment?'

'I was interested to find out what would happen to certain fabrics when they came into contact with a chemical while being saturated with blood residue.'

'Basically, you're saying that you stained John's jumper with blood then applied a chemical to it which caused a hole to be burned into it?' Sally asks getting to the crux of the matter. 'All without asking his permission first?' Sherlock refuses to answer preferring to curl up and stay silent. 'I thought so.' John rises.

'I will be spending a couple of nights at LL's. If I stay at Baker Street, I will kill him.'

'No you won't. and you don't have to leave.' Greg admonishes him.

'It doesn't matter, dad, I was going to round his anyway. Poker and general catch up session with the regiment.'

'Have fun then John.' John nods once then straightens into his default military position. He walks out of the door making sure to close it behind him.

'SO you've finally come to your senses then. And leaving the freak.' John freezes at Anderson's comment. He executes a perfect military spin.

'What did you say?' he grits out.

'You're leaving the freak aren't you?'

'No. I am not leaving my _brother_. you call him a freak again you'll be on the run from all the security services. Got that?' Back on the office, the three of them watch the mini confrontation between Sherlock and John.

'It wasn't his mother's jumper.' Sally and Greg turn and stare at the curled up consulting detective.

'What?' Greg asks.

'It was Sophia's. She didn't want it and sent it over with Mary. Come on, do you really think that I would actually destroy something of his mother's?'

'Where is it?'

'At yours, with Mary.' Greg sighs the sigh of the put-upon.

'Sherlock. You could have just told him that at the beginning.'

'He wouldn't listen.'

'Did you even try?' Sherlock's glare gives him the expected answer. 'of course you didn't.' Greg tips Sherlock out of his chair and shoos him out of the door. 'go and get it then. And the one you destroyed. Go, you have twenty minutes.' Sherlock opens his mouth to protest and pout but Greg just points to the door of the department. 'Go.' Sherlock slouches off through the ranks of officer and as he disappears through the far door Greg and Sally burst out laughing.

Twenty minutes later, Greg is leaning against the wall of his office as Sherlock returns carrying both the jumpers, Hope Watson's and Sophia's. Greg takes them both and inspects the undamaged areas of Sophia's. he sighs staring at his younger son. 'I can why he thought it was Hope's. You should have corrected him instantly. And Mary shouldn't have encouraged it.' Greg jerks his thumb over his shoulder. 'get in there and ring him and apologise.' Sherlock scowls mostly at the last bit but he does as he is told and slouches into the office. 'Nope that's my chair.' Sherlock shuffles around the desk as he dials the number to John's mobile, Greg takes the receiver from his hand and puts it on loudspeaker.

'John, it's me.'

'What do you want.' Sherlock looks up Greg who nods.

'I'm sorry for leading you on.'

'Go on.'

'The jumper I experimented on was not Hope's. It was Sophia's.'

'And where is mine?'

'it was with Mary, it's now in front of me.'

'And me John.' Greg interrupts.

'You simpering little cockroach,' John barks through the speakers, 'you %£%ing little jackass, you know how attached I am to that jumper and you let me believe you destroyed it. you have No Chance Outside* and you should be with the wignuts or the mud puppies or the squids.'** John hangs up abruptly.

'He has very colourful language when upset doesn't he?'

'It's the soldier in him.' Greg replies tiredly. 'Go home Sherlock.'

_**A/N:- Sorry again about the delay, got distracted with the other fandoms, again, but I made it extra long to make up for it. Dedicated to Harri-Sal who wanted more Captain Watson. Sorry, probably not what you were expecting but it just came out this way. Next time... Two very sick kids**_

_***as NCO a Non Commissioned Officer – Sherlock would be a commissioned officer because of his intelligence and rank.**_

_****I'm too goddamm tired to think up smart insults if any of you can think of some please PM them to be - see?**_


	31. Two Very Sick Kids

**Two Very Sick Kids**

Greg climbs into bed exhausted after running around after two toddlers all day. It was his first day of enforced 'paternal' leave while the consulting detective genius, otherwise known as Sherlock Holmes, and his best friend and flatmate, John Watson, had been turned into toddlers. He, along with his wife, Mary, had taken responsibility for the pair. But only after realising that he was in fact father to them both. 'What a day' He groans softly to his equally exhausted wife.

'Be nice.' She chides him gently. He gives her a kiss on her cheek before they snuggle down together. 'It's the best of both worlds' she murmurs.

'Huh?'

'We already know most of the distinguishing features of both Sherlock and john. But this way we get to see how they were like as children.'

'I guess so.' Greg agrees slipping further under the covers.

'Come on, tell me you didn't enjoy today.' Greg murmurs something unintelligibly Mary glances at his face and sees that he is deep asleep. She chuckles softly careful not to jostle and wake him. She settles down to read as she doesn't feel tired enough to go straight to sleep.

* * *

Fifty minutes later, Mary has closed her book and marked her place with a book mark. She sets it on the bedside table and shuffles down the bed to snuggle up to her husband. Just as she is dropping off to sleep, the door opens and a little head topped with dark curls is poked around the door. 'Lockie?' She asks sleepily. 'Lockie? What's wrong? Sweetie?' Sherlock scampers up and onto the bed. He crawls up and buries his head into her neck. With his face against her skin she can feel the heat emanating from the toddler's forehead. Mary works her body back into a sitting position cradling the sick toddler to her chest. 'It's just the flu sweetie. You'll be okay.' Sherlock coughs quietly but it is enough to wake Greg from his deep sleep.

'Hey, Lockie. What's up?' Greg rubs Sherlock's back gently to help soothe him.

'Can you go check on John? Lockie's got the flu.' Greg nods and climbs out of the bed. Minutes later, he's back carrying a flu ridden toddler John. Mary sighs gently having just got Sherlock back to sleep.

'He's sicker then Sherlock.' Greg whispers. John whimpers as Greg lays him on the bed next to Sherlock.

'Not to be a pain…'

'But?'

'It will be easier to deal with them in their room.' Greg bites his lip to stop laughing and disturbing the kids.

'You evil woman.' Greg gently lifts John back into his arms and leads the way back to the boy's room. Mary follows carrying Sherlock and she manages not to wake him. the two adults gently put the kids back into bed. Mary leaves the room for a moment for a couple of washcloths and hands one to Greg when she comes back. She puts hers onto Sherlock's forehead. Greg does likewise with John. 'Have you had any sleep?' Mary shakes her head. 'Go to bed Mary.'

'You've only had an hour.' She points out.

'I'll wake you in a couple of hours or so.' Greg creeps downstairs and snags a chair from the dining room, before putting it back and going into the playroom and carrying the rocking chair upstairs to the boys' room. he places it in between the bed with the back to the door. where he can clearly see both boys struggling to stay asleep. Sherlock begins to snuffle in his sleep. Greg leans forward to check on the younger boy. Snagging the waste paper basket he manages to get it under Sherlock's head just before the toddler throws up. The raven haired boy whimpers as his throat burns from the bile being forced up. Greg calms again by running his hand through the curls. The Detective Inspector rises carefully and makes his way swiftly through to the bathroom where he cleans out the bin. He looks into his and Mary's bedroom to check on his wife, seeing her fast asleep he snags the bin in their room to take through to the boy's room. He retakes his seat on the rocking chair and gently beginning to rock the chair in a soothing rhythm allowing the creaks to keep both the boys asleep.

* * *

Ten minutes later John stills completely. Greg stops the chair rocking and he leans forward looking for the rise and fall of the little boy's chest. As the blonde toddler is lying on his back Greg gently rolls him onto his side allowing him to breathe easier. John's chest moves easier but Greg is sure that he may need to take him to the doctor in the morning or if the young boy's breathing gets worse. John keens slightly and Greg strokes his hair to try and calm him. John settles but goes back onto his back. Greg leans back but stays rigid against the chair back. The elder of the two toddler starts coughing slightly and Greg rolls him back onto his side just in time for vomit to lands in the bin on the floor next to the bed. Greg touches the washcloths to check on the temperature. Feeling that they are tepid, he slips through to the bathroom to cool them again. By the time he gets back John is stirring again. Greg places the washcloth on John's forehead unintentionally waking the boy. 'Hey.' He whispers running fingers through the blonde hair. 'Feeling rough?' John nods slightly weakly. 'My poor boy.' John wriggles slightly and Greg worked out what he wanted immediately. He gathers the boy onto his lap and cuddles him helping the sickly toddler to relax back into sleep. Just before John does fall back to sleep Greg gives him a dose of children's cold and flu medicine. The medicine knocks the toddler out and Greg waits for him to be completely asleep before he slips out from under the toddler's body. Just as he does so, Sherlock begin to stir and moan slightly. Greg transfers his weight to Sherlock's bed. He runs his fingers through the raven curls as he wipes the sweat off the toddler's face. Sherlock opens his eyes and manages to pull himself onto Greg's lap. Greg smiles down at the boy and seizes the opportunity to give Sherlock a dose of the same medicine he had given John. Unlike John, it doesn't knock the taller toddler out. 'Clingy aren't you?' Greg murmurs into the curls. The detective inspector senses, rather than sees, the scowl on the toddler's face. 'I quite like it. A nice difference from the adult Sherlock we all know and love.' Greg gently rocks his younger son back to sleep. Even in sleep he clings to his father. From the door Mary laughs gently. Greg glances up and smiles. 'Can you wash that out?' Greg nods to the bin next to John's bed. Mary follows the nod and nods herself. She gathers it up and cleans it out.

'Have they had any medication?' She asks softly settling her self with John. Greg nods.

'Just now for Lockie and a few minutes ago for Don.' He unwittingly speaking Sherlock's lisping name for the little boy. He pauses and glares at his wife daring her to comment. She just smiles fondly secretly glad that they feel like a proper family. Even if it is only going to be temporary.

* * *

The next morning, Greg wakes up lying oddly on Sherlock's bed. Across the way Mary laughs gently as she listens to something that John was talking about. On his lap Sherlock stirs weakly and Greg soothes him absentmindedly. Sherlock wakes up and looks up at him with bleary eyes. Greg smiles down at him and the taller toddler makes himself more comfortable on his lap. 'Feeling better?' Sherlock nods against his chest. 'How's John feeling?'

'He's doing okay?'

'Yeah.'

'Even his breathing?' Mary glances over at him curiously. 'Humour me.' Mary leans closer to the boy on her lap.

'Sounds a little chesty. But it should clear up quickly. Huh little man?' She asks the de-aged doctor. He nods against her chest. 'We'll ring Dom in a bit to see if he had it originally.' John snuggles closer into Mary's embrace. Sherlock wriggles in Greg's lap drawing the DI's attention back to him. Greg playfully sniffs at his neck.

'You're a stinky so and so aren't you?' Greg stands and pretends to throws the taller toddler over his shoulder. Sherlock giggles as he is carried out of the room fireman style. Mary gathers John up and follows through to the bathroom. 'Time to have a bath, I think.' Greg's final statement is echoed by the laughter of two toddlers having a shedload of fun.


End file.
